COB>;S<S»K« 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


Cteo.  H-  Dunham. 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/inokefenokeestorOOpend 


IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


Tlicy 're  going  to  eat  us  up!"  gasped  poor  Charlie.  —  /''A'''   '-■'^- 


IN  THE  OKEFENOKEE. 


A   STORY   OF   WAR  TIME    AND   THE 
GREAT  GEORGIA  SWAMP. 


BY 

LOUIS   PENDLETON, 

AUTHOR   OF 

KING  TOM   AND   THE   RUNAWAYS,"   "  THE   SONS   OF   HAM,"   "  IN   THE   WIRE- 
GRASS,"  "THE   WEDDING   GARMENT,"    ETC. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1895. 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  Louis  Pendleton. 


All  rights  reserved. 


SHntbcrsttjg  ^rcss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.     Sad  News  for  Refugees 1 

II.     Lost  in  the  Okefenokee 12 

III.  The  Deserters'  Camp 24 

IV.  Prisoners 33 

V.     Diversion  in  Captivity 43 

VI.     Charley  is  introduced  to  "  Son,"  and  listens 

to  a  Story 55 

YII.     A  Break  for  Freedom 61 

Vlir.     Joe     and     Charley     cover     themselves    with 

Gr.oRY 71 

IX.       "  BUEATHES      THERE     THE      jNIaN,      WITH     SOUL     SO 

DEAD?" 80 

X.     The   "Cock   of    the  "Walk"   is   "  hurted  "  in 

HIS  Mind 87 

XI.     The  Gander  Pulling 98 

XII.     Flight 106 

Xlir.     The   Boys  are   left  to  their  own  Resources  114 

XIV.     Land  of  the  "Trembling  Earth" 123 

XV.     A  "Desert  Inaccessible" 133 


603185 


VI  CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

XVI.     George  Washington  Jefferson  Jackson  Smith  141 

XVII.     Again  in  Durance  Vile 151 

XVIII.     The  Widow  of  a  Soldier  or  the  W^ife  of  a 

Deserter? 159 

XIX.     The  Problem  is  solved 168 

XX.     Home  at  Last    .     .     , 178 


IN  THE  OKEFENOKEE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

SAD   NEWS   FOK  KEFUGEES. 

TT  was  late  iu  February  of  the  year  1865,  —  winter  ac- 
-■-  cording  to  the  calendar ;  but  already  wild  violets  were 
peeping  through  the  frost-browned  wire-grass,  and  honey- 
suckle and  dogwood  blossoms  had  begun  to  perfutne  the 
air.  In  southeastern  Georgia,  winter  is  only  a  make-be- 
lieve, and  soon  yields  to  spring. 

Among  the  scattering  pines  in  front  of  a  "  double-pen  " 
log-house,  and  near  a  "  wet-weather "  spring,  two  boys 
were  engaged  in  cleaning  a  gun ;  that  is  to  say,  one  of 
them,  the  larger  of  the  two,  was  thus  occupied,  while  the 
other  looked  on  with  absorbed  attention.  The  taller  boy, 
who  was  about  fourteen  years  old  and  well  grown  for  his 
age,  had  removed  his  coat,  and  from  time  to  time,  as  he 
paused  in  his  work,  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead. 
The  other,  who  could  not  have  been  more  than  ten  years 
old,  stood  where  the  sunshine  fell  full  upon  him,  but  had 
not  yet  found  his  coat  too  warm. 

1 


IiY   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


Both  boys  were  dark  and  fine  of  feature,  but  hardly  to 
be  called  handsome,  although  there  was  a  straightforward, 
open  look  on  the  face  of  each  which  seemed  to  promise  a 
manhood  of  truthfulness  and  honor. 

The  double  barrels  of  the  gun  had  been  separated  from 
the  stock,  and  were  held  upright  in  a  shallow  tin  basin  of 
water  from  the  spring.  The  ranu'od,  wrapped  carefully 
with  cloth,  was  drawn  back  and  forth  in  the  barrels,  piston 
fashion,  causing  the  water  to  be  sucked  in  and  sprayed 
forth  from  the  tubes,  and  thus  removing  the  accumulations 
of  burnt  powder  and  wadding. 

"  I  'm  goin'  to  give  her  a  good  cleaning  this  time, 
Charley,"  said  the  elder  boy,  "  and  maybe  the  next  time  I 
jump  a  deer  she  won't  fail  me." 

"  Papa  says  you  don't  clean  your  gun  often  enough," 
rejoined  Charley,  after  a  moment. 

The  larger  boy  appeared  to  disdain  a  response  to  this 
criticism  at  second  hand ;  and  there  followed  a  long 
pause,  during  which  fresli  water  was  vigorously  drawn 
in  and  sprayed  out.  Finally  the  younger  boy  spoke 
again, — 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  a  secret,  Joe  ? " 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  Sister  Marian  must  be  goin'  to  marry  Captain 
Marshall." 

"  Who  said  so  ?  " 

"  Nobody.     But  I  saw  him  kiss  her."  i^jQ 

"When?" 

"  Just  before  he  left.  He  kissed  her,  and  she  did  n't  do 
a  thing,  —  she  just  turned  red." 


SAD  NEWS  FOR   REFUGEES. 


"  Humph  ! "  w.as  Joe's  displeased  exclamation.  "  I  'm 
glad  /  was  n't  there.     It  would  'a'  made  me  mad." 

Little  did  the  boys  suspect  that  the  young  captain  had 
obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  travelled  hundreds  of  miles, 
in  order  to  ask  for  and  obtain  the  right  to  do  just  what 
Joe  so  emphatically  disapproved. 

"  And  wlien  he  was  gone,  she  cried,"  continued  Charley, 
"  I  saw  lier." 

"  It  was  high  time  for  him  to  go,"  said  Joe.  "  Father 
says  we  need  every  man  at  the  front  we  can  get.  He  says 
the  Confederacy  is  bleeding  at  every  pore.  It  is  such  a 
pity  that  father  is  too  old,  and  I  am  too  young !  I  wish 
they  'd  let  me  go,  anyhow." 

"  Papa  is  over  sixty,"  remarked  Cliarley. 

"  Everything  is  goin'  against  our  side,"  continued  Joe. 
"  Father  says  the  Confederacy  is  '  tottering  on  its  last 
foundations.'  And  to  think  that  now,  when  every  man  is 
needed,  the  Okefenokee  is  full  of  deserters !  Fatlier  said 
it  made  his  blood  boil.  Brother  George  and  brother  Tom 
have  been  at  the  front  from  the  very  start,"  the  boy  added, 
with  pride. 

Joe  had  just  finished  cleaning  the  gun  when  Charley's 
attention  was  attracted  to  two  men  wlio  were  approaching 
the  log-house  from  the  woods.  Half  an  hour  before,  he 
had  seen  his  father  go  out  with  an  axe  to  fell  a  tree.  He 
was  now  returning,  the  axe  thrown  across  his  shoulder, 
accompanied  by  a  neighbor,  who  held  a  newspaper  in  his 
hand. 

What  riveted  Charley's  attention  was  the  fact  that  his 
father  was  weeping  aloud. 


IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


"  0  Joe,  look  yonder !  Papa  must  have  hurt  himself 
with  the  axe." 

"  You  little  goose  !  "  cried  Joe,  turning  to  look.  A  mo- 
ment later  the  elder  boy's  face  changed,  and  with  quicken- 
ing breath  he  half-whispered,  "  Somebody  must  be  dead  !  " 

Then  both  boys  started  toward  the  house  at  a  run. 

That  Mr.  Roger  M^riniee,  the  father  of  the  two  boys, 
was  not  of  Anglo-Saxon  descent  might  be  surmised  from 
the  fact  that  he  could  weep  in  this  way.  He  and  his 
family  did  not  belong  to  the  Okefenokee  backwoods.  He 
was,  or  had  been  before  the  war,  a  wealthy  rice-planter 
of  the  coast,  living  on  the  same  spot  where  his  ancestors, 
belonging  to  the  persecuted  and  self-exiled  Huguenots  of 
France,  had  settled  generations  before. 

Stern  adversity  was  now  the  portion  of  this  family; 
their  beloved  island  liome  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a 
Union  force,  and  they  were  refugees.  Mr.  Mdrimde  had 
brought  his  wife,  daughter,  and  two  younger  sons,  a  few 
belongings  and  three  servants,  in  boats  of  liis  own,  up  the 
St.  Mary's  Eiver  to  the  backwoods  village  of  Trader's 
Hill,  on  the  borders  of  the  great  Okefenokee  Swamp.  A 
mile  from  that  settlement  they  had  hastily  erected  a 
"double-pen"  log-house.  Here  the  family  had  sojourned 
—  or  "camped,"  as  they  said  —  during  the  past  eight 
months. 

The  neighbor  with  the  newspaper  in  his  hand  had  not 
gone  in.  He  halted  at  the  gate  a  few  moments,  then 
turned  to  go.  Observing  the  two  boys  running  toward 
the  house,  he  stopped,  as  if  intending  to  speak  to  them, 
but  after  a  moment's  reflection  moved  on  afjain. 


SAD  NEWS  FOR   REFUGEES. 


The  boys  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  a  great  grief  had 
come  to  their  home.  As  they  came  near  the  door,  the 
sound  of  weeping  issued  from  the  large  room  on  the 
right.  Charley  ran  in,  but  Joe  hesitated.  Seeing  a  negro 
woman  approaching  from  the  kitchen,  he  ran  to  meet 
her. 

'•  What  is  it,  Aunt  Martha  ?  "  he  asked,  trembling. 

"  Mas'  CTCorge  —  "  she  said.  The  woman's  round  good- 
humored  face  was  now  very  sad.  "  Mas'  George  —  "  she 
repeated,  falteringly 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"Yes,  honey." 

The  woman  passed  on  hurriedly ;  and  Joe,  after  a  mo- 
ment, absently  seated  himself  on  a  bench  in  the  wide 
hallway,  where  from  time  to  time  the  sound  of  fresh  sobs 
reached  him.  The  boy  was  only  ten  years  old  when  his 
brother  went  to  the  war,  and  during  the  four  years  since 
they  had  seen  each  other  but  twice.  They  were  almost 
strangers ;  and  it  was  only  natural  that  Joe  could  not 
grieve  as  his  parents  grieved. 

Still  he  was  very  unhappy.  There  was  something 
appalling  in  this  great  grief  which  he  could  not  fully 
share ;  it  filled  him  with  anxiety  and  dread.  He  did  not 
want  to  see  them  weeping,  —  his  father,  his  mother,  his 
sister;  it  was  painful  even  to  think  of.  And  so  he  stayed 
where  he  was,  and  waited. 

While  he  waited,  his  thoughts  were  busy.  He  wondered 
where  his  brother  was  now,  —  his  real  brother,  who  would 
live  forever,  not  the  body  which  would  be  buried  in  the 
ground.     Was  he  walking  about  in  that  world  to  which 


6  7.V    THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

be  had  gone,  and  looking  at  things  and  asking  questions  ; 
and  were  the  angels  teaching  him,  telling  him  everything 
he  wanted  to  know  ?  Joe  thought  there  must  be  a  great 
deal  to  see  in  that  world,  and  that,  but  for  the  dying,  — 
which  every  one  seemed  to  regard  as  so  very  painful,  —  it 
must  be  very  pleasant  to  go  there. 

Finally  his  sister  Marian  crossed  the  hall,  and,  observing 
him,  approached.  She  was  unusually  handsome,  in  spite 
of  her  swollen  eyes  and  tear-stained  face. 

"Have  they  told  you,  Joe  ?"  she  asked  softly. 

"  Yes.     Where  was  he  when  he  fell  ?  " 

"  At  Columbia." 

She  burst  out  crying  again,  putting  one  arm  round  the 
boy's  neck.  In  a  few  moments  he,  too,  was  overcome. 
The  grief  of  the  household  had  become  his  also.  The 
future  world  might  indeed  be  the  delightful  place  he  had 
pictured  it,  but  the  lifelong  parting  was  terribly  sad. 

The  house  was  astir  at  daylight  next  morning.  Martha 
served  as  tempting  a  breakfast  as  the  resources  of  the 
house  would  permit ;  but  no  one  was  hungry.  Joe  ob- 
served that  his  father,  his  mother,,  and  his  sister  had  eacli 
dressed  with  particular  care  that  morning ;  and  he  wondered 
if  they  were  going  away.  Presently  his  mother  called  liim 
into  her  room. 

"  We  are  going  down  the  river  to  St.  Mary's,"  she  told 
him,  gravely.  "  We  want  to  hear  more  news.  Your 
father  is  too  feeble  to  travel  alone,  and  I  must  go  witli 
him.  Marian  will  go,  too ;  she  cannot  remain  here  Avith- 
out  me,  at  her  age.  So  we  shall  have  to  leave  you  boys 
with  Martha  and  John." 


SAD  NEWS  FOR  REFUGEES. 


Joe  wondered  why  it  was  considered  safe  for  Charley 
and  himself  to  remain,  and  not  safe  for  his  sister ;  but  he 
did  not  ask  questions. 

"Your  father  is  not  afraid  to  leave  you  with  Martha 
and  John,"  his  mother  continued.  ''They  will  be  kind  to 
you,  and  you  must  not  do  anything  to  provoke  them,  Joe. 
Of  all  our  servants,  they  were  always  the  best.  We  are 
not  afraid  they  will  run  away  and  leave  you,  as  Asa  did." 
Asa  was  a  negro  who  had  belonged  to  the  family  and  who 
had  disappeared  some  time  before. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  boys  watched  the  wagon  drive 
away.  Martha  and  John  were  watching,  too.  It  was  a 
strange  sight  this,  —  their  master  and  mistress  seated  in 
chairs  in  an  open  wagon  and  driving  away,  just  as  the 
commonest  "  Crackers  "  might  have  done. 

The  vehicle  out  of  sight,  John  turned  away  silently  to 
pursue  the  work  which  had  been  left  him  to  do ;  but  be- 
fore Martha  resumed  her  labors  she  said  to  the  boys,  — 

"  Yo'  ma  say  you-all  kin  hunt  much  as  you  please  while 
she  gone,  but  you  mus'  be  keerful.  You-all  better  keep 
out  dat  swamp,"  she  added,  on  her  own  account.  "  No 
tellin'  what  dem  'zerters  might  do  ef  dey  cotch  you  in  dat 
place." 

Joe  smiled  contemptuously.  What  was  a  deserter  but 
a  cowardl}^  sneak  ?     And  who  was  afraid  ? 

The  great  Okefenokee  Swamp,  a  wild  waste  some  forty 
miles  long  by  twenty-five  broad,  surrounded  by  vast  tracts 
of  pine-barrens  almost  without  a  settlement,  is  better 
known  now  than  it  was  in  those  days,  but  its  character 
is  essentially  the  same.     It  consists  now,  as  it  did  then,  of 


8  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

vast  jungles,  flooded  forests,  islands,  lakes,  "prairies,"  or 
marshes,  and  is  still  comparatively  a  pathless  wilderness. 

More  than  a  hundred  years  ago  a  story  was  current  that 
it  had  been  the  last  refuge  of  the  ancient  Yemassees,  — a 
race  which  disappeared  before  the  march  of  the  conquering 
Creeks,  —  and  it  is  well  known  to  have  been  a  stronghold 
of  the  Seminoles  during  the  Florida-Indian  war,  as  well 
as  to  have  furnished  a  secure  hiding-place  for  deserters 
during  the  Civil  "War.  At  present  its  more  accessible 
islands  sustain  one  or  two  squatter  families,  while  the 
swamp  itself  is,  as  it  has  ever  been,  the  bountiful  and 
protecting  mother  of  a  variety  of  wild  animals,  birds, 
alligators,  and  other  reptiles. 

Joe  and  Charley  had  never  ventured  far  into  it,  but 
had  often,  alone  or  with  their  father,  hunted  along  its 
borders,  and  had,  therefore,  some  idea  of  its  general  char- 
acter. The  elder  boy  was  not  lacking  in  courage,  but  was 
restrained  by  prudence.  To  say  nothing  of  the  possible 
encounters  with  reptiles,  bears,  and  panthers,  he  knew  that 
there  were  thorny  jungles  through  which  it  was  difficult  to 
go  without  paying  a  penalty  of  torn  clothing  and  bleeding 
limbs,  and  that  tliere  were  vast  marshes,  wherein  one  often 
sank  to  the  armpits  in  mud  and  water. 

None  the  less,  liowever,  was  there  an  alluring  attraction 
about  the  great  swamp  ;  its  remote  recesses  rose  before  the 
boy's  imagination,  unveiling  their  wonders  and  inviting 
his  approach. 

Joe  had  long  been  determined  to  extend  his  explorations 
when  a  favorable  opportunity  should  arrive.  The  day 
after  the  departure  of  his  parents  he  decided  that  the  time 


SAD  NEWS  FOR   REFUGEES. 


had  come.  Permission  to  enjoy  unlimited  bunting  had 
been  given  him ;  why  not  penetrate  the  Okefenokee,  to 
the  extent  of  two  or  three  days'  journey  at  least  ? 

The  chief  obstacle  in  the  way  was  Charley.  Joe  felt 
that  the  boy  was  too  young  to  go,  and  yet  he  did  not  like 
to  leave  him  behind.  Nor  could  he  think  of  going  alone 
without  misgivings.  If  he  only  had  a  comrade,  a  boy 
friend  of  his  own  age  —  or  even  if  John,  the  black  man, 
would  agree  to  go.  This,  however,  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion ;  John  had  work  to  do,  and  in  any  case  probably 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  go. 

But  Joe  felt  that  something  must  be  done.  He  \vas  not 
disposed  to  idle  about  the  house,  and  dwell  upon  the  grief 
which  had  befallen  the  family.  If  he  could  but  find 
some  of  those  deserters  hiding  in  the  swamp  and  tell  them 
how  things  were  going  at  tlie  front,  they  —  perhaps  they 
would  become  ashamed  of  their  evil  way  and  return  to 
their  duty.  Could  he  but  accomplish  this,  how  happy 
he  would  be  !  For  hours  the  boy  could  think  of  nothing 
but  this  glorious  plan. 

However,  he  concluded  to  wait  still  another  day  before 
starting,  hoping  some  one  at  Trader's  Hill  could  be 
persuaded  to  go  with  him. 

One  plan  after  anotlier  suggested  itself  to  Joe  that  after- 
noon, as  he  and  Charley  walked  out  to  try  the  newly 
cleaned  gun.  Martha  had  given  them  an  early  dinner, 
and  they  had  a  long  afternoon  before  them.  Heedless  of 
her  repeated  warning,  they  at  the  outset  tuined  their  steps 
in  the  direction  of  the  great  swamp.  This  was  but  nat- 
ural, for  there  was  less  game  in  the  pine-barrens. 


10  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Joe  trudged  ahead,  his  gun  across  his  right  shoulder, 
and  a  powder-horn  and  shot-pouch  hanging  at  his  left  side. 
Charley  followed,  armed  only  with  a  hatchet;  he  was  con- 
sidered too  young  to  handle  a  gun. 

For  about  two  miles  the  path  led  through  open  pine- 
barrens,  carpeted  with  wire-grass,  level  as  a  floor;  then 
gradually  a  downward  slope  was  perceived,  and  ere  long 
the  straggling  pines  were  meiged  in  the  thicker  growth  of 
the  swamp. 

Quitting  the  path  which  skirted  the  swamp,  Joe  led  the 
way  through  a  "  head,"  or  arm  of  the  great  morass,  thickly 
grown  up  with  cypresses  and  covered  for  the  most  part 
with  shallow  water,  through  which  the  boys  boldly  waded. 
It  did  not  occur  to  them  to  remove  their  shoes,  or  to  take  a 
circuitous  route  in  order  to  avoid  the  water.  To  penetrate 
the  Okefenokee  even  for  half  a  mile  with  dry  feet  was  out  of 
the  question.  An  hour  later,  after  following  a  dimly  out- 
lined trail  for  some  two  miles,  the  boys  found  themselves 
on  the  shore  of  a  little  lake  or  pond,  the  surface  of  which, 
except  near  the  centre,  was  largely  hidden  by  "bonnets" 
—  a  species  of  water-lily  —  and  clumps  of  brown  flags  or 
sedge. 

Charley  had  never  been  so  far  before,  but  Joe  remem- 
bered hunting  along  this  lake  with  his  father,  who  had 
shot  three  ducks.  The  deserters  were  now  forgotten ;  and 
visions  of  wild  ducks,  both  alive  and  slain,  floated  before 
Joe's  inner  sight  and  urged  him  on. 

He  skirted  more  than  half  the  way  round  the  lake, 
creeping  forward  stealthily,  before  he  sighted  a  flock  of 
ducks  within  range.     Then  he  was  so  much  excited  that 


SAD  NEWS  FOR   REFUGEES.  U 

his  aim  was  wild  and  fruitless.  Charley,  who  had  been 
directed  to  remain  quiet  and  far  in  the  rear,  now  hurried 
up  to  see  what  Joe  had  shot. 

The  sun  was  fast  sinking  behind  the  wall  of  woods  ;  and 
Charley  insisted  that  they  should  at  once  turn  back,  or 
night  would  overtake  them.  But  Joe  refused  to  turn  back 
until  he  had  skirted  the  lake  twice,  shot  several  times,  and 
finally  killed  a  duck,  to  secure  which  he  waded  up  to  his 
waist  in  the  sedge. 

Struggling  out  of  the  water  with  his  prize,  the  boy  hur- 
riedly took  his  bearings  and  led  the  way  along  what  ap- 
peared to  be  the  trail  by  which  they  had  come. 

Within  an  hour  the  sun  had  set  and  the  twilight  was 
thickening.  This  would  have  mattered  little  if  they  had 
been  clear  of  the  swamp ;  but  so  far  from  having  gained 
the  open  pine-barrens,  they  now  seemed  more  deeply 
involved  than  ever,  and  were  unable  to  recognize  anything 
about  them. 

Joe  halted  and  looked  anxiously  around.  He  suspected 
that,  in  skirting  the  lake,  intent  on  the  game  only,  he  had 
lost  his  bearings,  and  in  starting  homeward  they  had  taken 
the  wrong  direction.     This,  indeed,  was  true. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Charley,"  he  said  manfully,  after 
a  few  moments ;  "  but  we  are  lost,  and  we  shall  have  to 
stay  here  all  night!" 


CHAPTER   II. 

LOST  IN   THE  OKEFENOKEE. 

"  QTAY  here  all  night!"  cried  Charley,  gazing  around 

^  the  gloomy  swamp  through  starting  tears.  "  I  said 
we  ought  to  turn  back  before." 

"Yes,  it  was  all  ray  fault,"  said  Joe;  "but  it  can't  be 
helped  now." 

"  Do  you  think  the  panthers  will  smell  us  and  —  and  — 
come  ? "  asked  Charley,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Don't  be  foolish.  We  are  n't  far  enough  in  for  that," 
answered  Joe,  stoutly,  although  the  last  part  of  his  speech 
sounded  a  little  weak,  as  if  he  had  misgivings.  He  had 
never  spent  a  night  in  the  swamp ;  and  the  prospect  of  it 
now,  under  the  existing  circumstances,  was  little  short  of 
terrifying.  But  he  said  resolutely,  "  It 's  no  use  to  think 
of  finding  our  way  home  to-night,  and  we  had  better  hunt 
a  place  to  camp  right  away." 

Promptness  was  indeed  necessary,  for  it  was  fast  grow- 
ing dark.  After  a  hurried  search  the  boys  selected  a  little 
open  spot  which  was  comparatively  dry,  and  covered  with 
dead  grass.  Within  two  or  three  feet  stood  a  large  black- 
gum  tree,  which,  Joe  reflected,  could  be  climbed  easily 
in  an  emergency;  and  close  at  hand  was  abundance  of 
hemleaf  and  huckleberry  bushes.     The  tops  of  these  could 


LOST  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE.  13 

be  broken  and  piled  where  the  boys  expected  to  sleep, 
and  the  couch  thus  prepared,  though  not  likely  to  suggest 
down,  would  at  least  protect  them  from  the  damp  ground. 

Joe  began  next  to  collect  fuel,  as  he  should  have  done 
at  first.  They  had  scarcely  begun  to  do  this  when  it 
became  so  dark  that  no  object  more  than  three  feet  dis- 
tant could  be  distinctly  seen.  Dry  wood  appeared  to  be 
very  scarce.  Tliey  had  not  as  yet  secured  even  a  good 
torch,  and  Joe  wasted  more  than  half  the  few  old  and 
broken  matches  found  in  his  pockets  in  an  anxious  search 
for  a  piece  of  "  lightwood." 

Even  then  he  did  not  find  what  he  wanted,  and  began 
to  consider  giving  up  the  fire.  It  certainly  would  not  do 
to  be  left  without  a  match.  Who  could  tell  when  they 
would  find  their  way  out  of  the  swamp  ?  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  might  be  better  to  pass  the  night  without  a  fire, 
unless  they  could  have  a  very  large  one.  A  small  blaze 
could  hardly  frighten,  and  might  attract  wild  animals. 

Joe  struck  one  more  match  with  no  better  result,  and 
then  gave  up  in  despair.  They  now  applied  themselves 
to  breaking  and  heaping  the  brush,  and  presently  lay  down 
upon  the  pile. 

Although  in  the  swamp  the  darkness  was  dense,  it  was 
a  clear  night,  and  an  occasional  star  could  be  seen  through 
the  foliage.  After  silently  reciting  their  prayers,  the  boys 
lay  close  together,  occasionally  speaking  in  whispers  and 
looking  wearily  up  at  the  stars.  At  every  sound  in  the 
forest,  at  every  freshening  of  the  night  breeze  in  the  leaves, 
they  would  start  and  listen,  apprehending  the  attack  of 
some  wild  animal. 


14  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Although  the  month  was  February,  it  was  a  bahiiy 
spring  night.  But  the  boys  were  without  covering  ;  their 
feet  and  legs  were  wet,  and  they  soon  began  to  feel  cold. 

Presently  Joe  rose  and  broke  more  of  the  huckleberry 
tops ;  making  Charley  rise,  too,  he  scooped  out  a  hollow 
in  the  enlarged  pile.  Then  they  lay  down  within  it, 
covered  themselves  up  to  their  ears,  and  felt  warmer. 

Nothing  disturbed  them  for  a  long  while  except  an  owl 
which  lighted  in  the  black-gum,  and  repeatedly  demanded 
to  know,  "  Who-wJio-who-all  ?"  as  Charley  declared.  But 
after  it  flew  to  a  distant  perch,  all  was  quiet  except  for  the 
occasional  rustling  of  the  branches,  and  at  last  the  weary 
boys  fell  asleep. 

Some  hours  later  Joe  was  awakened  by  feeling  Charley 
move,  and  hearing  his  voice  close  to  his  ear,  — 

"  Joe,  Joe,  wake  up  !     I  heard  something  !  " 

Joe  was  wide-awake  in  a  moment.  Listening  intently, 
he  heard  a  stealthy  footfall,  then  another  and  another, 
circling  round  the  camp.  The  sounds  could  hardly  have 
come  from  more  than  thirty  feet  away. 

"  Let 's  climb  that  tree  ! "  proposed  Charley,  excitedly. 
"  It  may  be  a  panther  ! " 

A  twig  snapped  under  the  foot  of  the  prowling  animal, 
and  terror  seized  the  boys.  Grasping  his  gun  and  ammu- 
nition, Joe  leaped  to  his  feet  and  bounded  to  the  tree, 
Charley  close  at  his  heels.  Every  moment  they  expected 
a  panther  to  spring. 

Joe  held  back,  and  let  Charley  go  up  the  tree  first,  help- 
ing him  until  he  could  grasp  the  lower  branches.  Then, 
having  passed  up  his  gun,  the  elder  boy  climbed  nimbly 


LOST  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE.  15 

into  the  tree.  Lodged  in  the  branches  of  the  Llack-gura 
some  twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  they  listened  intently, 
but  heard  no  further  sound.  The  marauder  appeared  to 
have  been  frightened  in  turn,  and  had  either  retreated,  or 
had  squatted  and  was  remaining  quiet. 

An  hour  passed,  and  still  there  was  no  sign.  Arranging 
themselves  as  comfortably  as  possible  among  the  spreading 
branches  near  the  tree's  main  stem,  the  boys  began  to 
forget  their  situation  and  to  doze. 

Awakening  with  a  start  some  time  later,  Joe  caught  a 
glimpse  of  two  gleaming  eyes  beneath  the  tree.  Making 
sure  of  his  gun,  he  whispered  to  Charley,  who  also  began 
to  stir,  — 

"  Do  you  see  him  ?     Do  you  see  his  eyes  ? " 

But  Joe  had  scarcely  opened  his  mouth,  when  a  low, 
guttural  growl  advised  him  that  he  had  seen  aright. 
Eaising  his  gun,  he  tremblingly  pointed  it  downward, 
and  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  eyes  again,  aimed  at  them  hastily 
and  fired. 

The  gun's  report  was  followed  by  a  howl  of  pain ;  and 
then,  during  some  moments,  they  could  hear  the  wounded 
animal  beating  a  frantic  retreat  through  the  neighboring 
underbrush.  The  boys  were  well  satisfied  to  find  that  the 
scattering  duck  shot,  even  if  they  did  not  kill,  would  wound 
and  drive  away  this  panther,  bear,  wild-cat,  or  whatever  it 
was.  Joe  remarked  cheerfully  that  it  was  a  great  thing  to 
have  a  gun,  and  both  boys  felt  more  comfortable  after  this, 
although  they  dared  not  descend  from  the  tree. 

An  hour  later  day  began  to  break ;  but  the  obscurity  still 
shrouding  neighboring  objects  for   some  time    thereafter 


16  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

was  entirely  dissipated,  and  the  sun  was  well  up  before 
the  boys  lelt  their  perch.  Meanwhile  Joe  outlined  plans 
for  the  day. 

"  Charley,"  said  he,  "  we  '11  _go  back  on  our  tracks  to  the 
lake,  go  all  around  it  carefully,  make  sure  of  the  right 
path,  and  start  off  toward  home.  If  we  have  good  luck, 
we'll  get  there  by  dinner-time." 

As  they  descended  from  the  tree,  Charley  espied  the 
hatchet  near  their  bed  of  leafy  boughs,  and  picked  it  up. 
They  then  observed  that  the  ground  was  covered  with 
feathers,  with  here  and  there  a  few  fragments  of  small 
bones,  and  recollected  the  duck  which  Joe  had  shot.  Evi- 
dently the  animal  which  had  visited  them  iu  the  night  had 
enjoyed  a  feast  at  their  expense. 

"  It  may  have  been  only  a  mink,"  said  Joe,  almost  dis- 
posed to  laugh.  But  he  added,  "  I  think  it  must  have 
been  at  least  a  wild-cat,  though." 

"  It  scared  us  just  as  much,  anyliow,"  said  Charley. 

Full  of  hope,  they  cheerfully  started  off  on  the  backward 
trail.  For  the  first  half-mile  it  led  over  soft  boggy  earth, 
where  the  tracks  were  easily  seen  ;  but  by  and  by  they 
reached  a  tract  of  several  acres  dotted  with  clumps  of 
palmetto-bushes,  where  the  ground  was  firm  and  thickly 
covered  with  wire-grass. 

Here  the  trail  was  soon  lost.  After  some  time  spent  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  find  it,  they  pushed  for\\'ard  in  what 
seemed  the  right  general  direction,  hoping  to  pick  up  tlie 
trail.  About  an  hour  later  they  espied  a  sheet  of  water 
ahead  of  them. 

"  There  's  the  lake  ! "  they  shouted  together.      Cut  on 


LOST  IN    THE   OKEFENOKEE.  17 

reaching  its  shores  they  found  that  it  was  not  the  lake 
wherein  the  duck  had  been  shot,  but  another  very  much 
like  it. 

It  was  now  plain  enough  that  they  were  seriously  lost, 
being  several  miles  within  the  border  line  of  tlie  Oke- 
fenokee,  and  ignorant  which  way  to  turn.  They  looked 
about  them  in  despair.  Poor  Joe  had  long  since  forgotten 
his  great  plan  of  seeking  out  the  deserters,  and  now  thought 
only  of  finding  the  way  home. 

He  was  not  so  disheartened,  however,  as  to  neglect  a 
chance  which  offered  for  a  shot  at  some  ducks,  and  was  for 
a  few  minutes  higlily  elated  on  discovering  that  he  had 
killed  two,  and  that  they  were  within  reach.  It  was  now 
near  noon,  and  both  boys  were  ravenously  hungry. 

They  soon  halted,  therefore,  at  a  little  stream  which  ran 
into  the  marshy  lake,  built  a  fire,  and  prepared  one  of  the 
ducks  for  food.  The  novel  experiment  of  cutting  thin 
slices  from  the  bird,  suspending  them  from  the  points  of 
long  sticks,  and  holding  them  close  to  the  flames,  absorbed 
their  attention  for  a  long  while.  Althoucdi  the  flesh  of 
the  duck  thus  roasted  satisfied  their  hunger,  and  they 
considered  it  a  very  fine  dish,  they  would  under  ordinary 
circumstances  have  regarded  it  as  unpalatable  in  the 
extreme,  owing  to  the  lack  of  salt. 

"  The  thing  for  us  to  do,  Charley,"  said  Joe,  as  they  rose, 
a  little  more  cheerful,  to  move  on,  "  is  to  keep  pushing 
ahead  where  the  swamp  seems  open.  Maybe  we'll  find 
our  way  out  after  awhile." 

They  pressed  forward  on  in  tliis  way  for  several  miles 
during  the  afternoon,  but  at  sundown  their  prospects  did 

2 


18  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

not  seem  to  have  improved.  They  knew  no  better  than  be- 
fore where  they  were.  As  it  was  clearly  necessary  to 
remain  in  the  swamp  another  night,  they  halted  in  time  to 
select  a  favorable  spot  for  a  camp  and  collect  a  large  pile 
of  firewood. 

Having  cooked  and  eaten  the  second  duck,  which 
Charley,  with  forethought,  had  brought  along,  drinking  as 
much  of  the  swamp  water  as  they  dared,  they  built  a 
second  fire  some  twenty  feet  from  the  first.  Arranging 
midway  between  the  two  a  bed  of  collected  moss,  leaves, 
and  grass,  they  passed  a  quiet  and  fairly  comfortable  night, 
without  alarms. 

The  next  morning  they  made  an  early  start,  and  pushed 
bravely  forward,  after  making  a  poor  breakfast  by  picking 
the  bones  of  the  duck.  Toward  noon  they  were  con- 
fronted  by  a  seemingly  impenetrable  jungle. 

"  We  '11  have  to  turn  back  now,"  said  Chailey,  dole- 
fully. 

"  No,  let 's  go  right  ahead,"  proposed  Joe.  "  We  '11  have 
to  travel  slowly ;  but  I  know  we  can  get  through  it,  and 
maybe  when  we  do  get  through,  we  '11  be  out  of  the  swamp. 
I  've  seen  just  such  places  on  the  edge  of  the  Okefenokee 
from  the  outside.  I  think  the  swamp  has  a  thick  rim  just 
like  this  round  a  great  deal  of  it." 

"  Let 's  get  some  fat  lightwood  splinters  for  kindling- 
wood,"  said  Charley,  "  because  we  may  be  in  that  thick 
place  all  night,  and  can't  start  a  fire.  It's  low  and  wet 
down  in  there." 

This  prudent  suggestion  was  acted  upon.  They  found 
some  good  lightwood ;  and  Charley  carried  the  bundle  of 


LOST  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE.  19 

splinters  iu  addition  to  the  hatchet,  as  Joe  led  the  way 
with  the  gun. 

The  jungle  evidently  covered  thousands  of  acres,  and 
was  for  the  most  part  so  dense  as  to  be  penetrable  only 
where  wild  animals  had  made  their  trails.  The  larger 
forest  trees  were  not  altogether  absent  here;  but  the  jungle 
consisted  chielly  of  smaller  trees,  shrubs,  and  vines. 

Among  these  was  the  "  bamboo  brier,"  a  vine  sometimes 
an  inch  thick,  armed  with  thorns  which  pierce  like  knives, 
and  the  tangled  growth  of  which  occasionally  forms  an 
impassable  wall  ten  feet  in  height.  Besides  all  this,  the 
ground  was  wet  and  boggy,  for  the  most  part  indeed  covered 
with  water  varying  from  two  inches  to  two  feet  deep.  It 
was  not  a  great  while  before  they  bitterly  regretted  their 
decision  to  force  their  way  through  this  jungle. 

Often  they  had  to  bring  the  hatchet  into  use  before  they 
could  move  forward  even  a  step ;  and  their  progress  was 
so  slow  that,  from  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon 
until  sundown,  they  pushed  forward  hardly  more  than 
two  miles.  As  the  sun  declined,  they  were  prey  to  grow- 
ing uneasiness,  but  still  pressed  on.  The  hope  that  the 
terminus  of  the  jungle  was  not  far  ahead  led  them  for- 
wai'd  ;  and  indeed  it  was  now  idle  to  turn  back,  as  night 
would  arrive  long  ere  they  could  retrace  their  steps. 

Aware  that  little  more  than  half  an  hour  of  daylight 
was  left  them,  the  boys  halted  at  a  point  where  the  jungle 
was  somewhat  less  dense  than  usual  in  order  to  make 
some  preparations  for  the  night.  But  even  here  the  w^ater 
rose  above  their  ankles,  and  the  prospect  was  a  very  gloomy 
one. 


20  IN   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

They  bad  often  heard  how  belated  Okefenokee  hunters 
had  been  compelled  to  build  sleeping  bowers  whereon  to 
pass  the  night,  and  this  they  set  about  doing  without  delay. 
Selecting  two  saplings  about  eight  feet  apart,  they  cut 
into  them  with  the  hatchet  at  a  point  about  three  feet 
above  the  water,  until  they  toppled  and  fell  over  in  tlie 
same  direction.  These  saplings,  being  young  and  greeu, 
did  not  entirely  separate  from  their  stumps ;  and  there- 
fore, while  slanting  gradually  down  to  the  water,  offered  a 
support  to  the  smaller  poles  and  brush  with  which  the 
boys  bridged  across  from  one  to  the  other.  The  resting- 
place  thus  secured  was  extremely  uncomfortable,  but  was 
better  than  spending  the  night  in  a  tree,  —  the  only  other 
recourse  open  to  them. 

It  was  now  dark,  and  they  attempted  to  build  a  fire  in 
the  hollow  of  a  cypress  "  knee  "  within  a  foot  or  two  of 
their  sleeping-bower.  But  they  were  unable  to  gather 
together  sufficient  dry  fuel,  and,  wisely  determining  to 
reserve  some  of  tlieir  lightwood  splinters  for  an  emer- 
gency, the  little  Hame  was  presently  allowed  to  die  out, 
leaving  them  in  deeper  darkness  than  before. 

As  they  rested  there,  scarcely  daring  to  speak  above  a 
wliisper,  they  were  tliaukful  for  one  thing,  —  that  it  was 
yet  too  early  in  spring  for  moccasins  and  other  reptiles 
to  be  aV)road.  This  thought  was  only  as  a  bright  ray  in 
the  gloom,  however. 

Lying  on  an  uncomfortable  pile  of  boughs  three  feet 
above  the  stagnant  water,  in  hunger  and  darkness,  with- 
out the  hope  of  finding  the  way  home,  their  distress  of 
mind  and  body  was  very  severe.  Charley  broke  down  at 
last,  and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 


LOST  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE.  21 

Joe  made  a  manful  effort  to  say  comforting  words,  re- 
minding his  small  brother  how  often  their  father  had  told 
tlieni  that  all  things  were  for  the  best  in  some  way ;  and 
that  the  Divine  Providence  never  forgot  them.  But  it 
was  difficult  to  take  comfort  from  these  reflections  at  such 
a  time,  and  Joe  himself  was  painfully  depressed.  Fatigue 
overcame  him,  however,  and  by  the  time  Charley's  sobs 
were  stilled,  he,  too,  was  asleep. 

If  there  was  any  tramping  of  wild  animals  about  their 
camp  that  night,  the  boys  did  not  hear  it.  At  an  early 
hour  of  the  morning  they  were  awake  and  preparing  to 
push  forward,  although  very  far  from  having  recovered 
either  from  the  mental  or  physical  depression  of  the  pre- 
vious night. 

About  nine  o'clock,  to  their  great  delight,  they  emerged 
from  the  jungle  and  ascended  the  slope  of  an  open  pine 
ridge,  upon  which,  at  a  distance  of  some  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  apart,  they  noted  three  Indian  mounds 
about  fifteen  feet  in  height. 

Joe  now  believed  that  they  were  out  of  the  swamp ; 
but  a  two-hours'  tramp  was  sufficient  to  convince  him  that 
they  were  merely  on  an  island  about  three  miles  long  by 
one  mile  in  breadth,  and  that  they  were  probably  farther 
away  from  help  tlian  ever. 

In  the  course  of  their  tramp  Joe  had  shot  two  partridges, 
and  the  two  lost  boys  were  in  a  measure  comforted  by  the 
thought  that  they  at  worst  need  not  starve ;  and  jDresently 
they  made  a  discovery  which  brought  fresh  hope.  At  the 
farther  end  of  the  island,  where  a  dense  "  hammock  "  sloped 
down  and  joined  hands  with  the  swamp,  which  here  took 


22  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

the  form  of  a  flooded  forest,  they  found  a  boat,  —  a  small 
bateau  scarcely  capable  of  floating  three  persons.  Evi- 
dently it  had  been  lying  idle  for  some  time.  It  was  half- 
full  of  water ;  but  when  this  was  bailed  out,  it  showed  no 
serious  leaks,  and  carried  the  two  boys  safely. 

"  That  must  lead  out  to  a  lake,"  said  Joe,  indicating  the 
narrow  boat-road  which  could  be  clearly  seen  winding  away 
through  the  flooded  forest.  "And  once  on  that  lake,  we 
may  find  our  way  out  of  the  swamp !  Anyhow,  we  may 
meet  somebody." 

Halting  only  to  build  a  fire  and  broil  and  eat  the  par- 
tridges, they  got  aboard  the  boat  with  all  their  belongings, 
and  paddled  away.  The  boat-road  had  evidently  been  a 
good  deal  travelled,  and  it  was  not  very  difficult  to  make 
headway.  As  Joe  had  surmised,  it  led  after  a  few  hundred 
yards  into  a  lake,  —  a  long  narrow  sheet  of  water  which 
was  in  reality  a  "  dead "  river.  At  its  farther  end  the 
boat-road  began  again,  and  wound  on  its  way  as  before 
through  the  seemingly  endless  flooded  forest. 

Along  here  the  boys  suddenly  caught  sight  of  a  large 
animal  swimming  across  their  path  some  fifty  yards  ahead. 
Gazing  at  it  in  breathless  astonisliment,  they  quite  forgot 
the  gun  until  it  was  too  late  to  shoot. 

Charley  feared  it  was  a  panther,  but  Joe  said  it  was 
probably  only  a  wild-cat.  As  they  neared  the  spot,  he 
stood  up,  gun  in  hand ;  but  the  hurrying  beast  had  landed 
in  the  jungle,  and  no  sign  of  it  could  be  seen. 

A  mile  or  two  farther  on,  they  emerged  from  the  flooded 
swamp  upon  an  extensive  open  marsh  filled  with  long 
rushes  and  "  bonnets,"  and  dotted  with  small  islands  and 


LOST  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE.  23 

clumps  of  trees,  hung  with  long  gray  drifts  of  Spanish 
moss.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  straight  ahead,  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left,  nothing  else  was  to  be  seen. 

Here  the  boys  paddled  for  hours,  imagining  that  they 
were  pursuing  the  same  general  course,  but  in  reality  wan- 
dering widely  in  the  confusion  of  rounding  many  little 
islands. 

At  last  they  saw  far  ahead  the  tops  of  some  tall  pines, 
and  gradually  worked  their  way  toward  them,  surmising 
that  they  stood  either  upon  a  large  island  or  the  mainland. 

As  they  approached  within  half  a  mile,  a  shallow  marsh, 
free  of  clumps  of  trees  or  little  islands,  opened  before 
them.  In  the  shallower  water  here,  the  rushes  and  water- 
mosses  seemed  to  thicken  steadily  as  they  ueared  the  shore, 
and  it  became  more  and  more  difficult  to  force  the  bateau 
through  or  over  them,  although  the  boys  followed  the  wind- 
ings of  a  clearly  defined  boat-trail. 

Finally,  within  some  three  hundred  yards  of  the  shore, 
or  the  wall  of  woods  indicating  an  island,  they  were  com- 
pelled to  step  out  and  drag  the  boat  after  them,  sinking 
now  to  the  knee,  now  to  the  waist,  in  slimy  moss,  mud,  and 
M'ater. 

Entering  the  border  of  trees,  they  pushed  forward,  still  in 
water  knee-deep,  for  about  a  hundred  yards,  before  they 
reached  a  landing-place  where  two  boats,  somewhat  larger 
than  their  own,  were  moored. 

" There 's  somebody  here,  sure"  said  Joe,  looking  about 
hopefully. 


CHAPTER   TIT. 

THE   deserters'    CAMP. 

A  WELL-BEATEN  path  led  upward  througli  the  dense 
-^^^  hammock  between  the  swamp  proper  and  the  pine 
ridge  composing  the  island  upon  which  Joe  and  Charley  had 
disembarked.  As  it  was  now  near  sundown,  and  the  boys 
were  painfully  hungry,  they  did  not  pause  to  think  twice, 
though  they  looked  ahead  warily  as  they  followed  up  the 
path.  The  hammock  growth  here  was  largely  of  bay  and 
magnolia,  with  a  tall  underbrush  of  swamp-cane.  Emerg- 
ing from  this  near  the  top  of  the  slope,  some  two  hundred 
yards  from  the  boats,  they  found  themselves  in  a  small 
clearing,  beyond  which  the  open  pine  land  of  the  island 
stretched  away  monotonously. 

Near  the  centre  of  the  clearing  was  a  house,  built  of 
rough  logs  and  puncheon  boards,  aiid  elevated  some  twelve 
feet  from  the  ground  on  stilt-like  posts  ;  and  over  a  fire  to 
the  right  of  this  structure  bent  a  man's  figure.  Evidently 
he  was  cooking  his  evening  meal,  for  the  boys  caught  the 
delicious  odor  of  frying  meat, 

"  Maybe  he  '11  give  us  something  to  eat,"  said  Charley, 
wistfully. 

Just  then  the  man  stood  erect ;  and  they  saw  that  he 
was  a  negro,  in  a  dirty  homespun  shirt  and  ragged  panta- 
loons.    A  moment  later  he  turned  his  face  toward  them. 


THE   DESERTERS'    CAMP.  25 

"  It 's  Asa  ! "  said  Joe,  astonished. 

The  boys  hesitated  no  longer.  The  negro  heard  their 
steps,  and  looked  up.  The  bewildered  expression  which 
overspread  his  face  changed  quickly  to  one  of  delight.  He 
leaped  forward  to  meet  them. 

"  Well,  well,  you  bo3's  !  "  he  cried,  laughing.  "  Where 
you-all  come  fum  ?     Wut  you  doiu'  yuh  ?  " 

"  What  are  yotc  doing  here  ?  "  asked  Joe,  halting  at  the 
fire. 

But  Charley  broke  in  to  outline  in  a  few  hurried  words 
the  story  of  their  wanderings.  He  shared  all  the  negro's 
delight  in  the  meeting ;  but  Joe,  though  glad  enough,  had 
not  forgotten  what  he  regarded  as  a  very  grave  matter. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  he  repeated,  as  soon  as 
there  was  a  break  in  the  negro's  exclamations.  "  What 
made  you  run  away,  Asa  ?  " 

"  Me  run  away !  Did  you-all  tink  I  run'd  away  ? " 
asked  Asa,  an  injured  look  overspreading  his  face.  "  De 
'zerters  cotch  nie  an'  brung  me  yuh  —  /never  run'd  away. 
No-suh-ree !  One  evenin'  I  was  down  in  de  edge  o'  de 
swamp  huntiu'  yo'  pa's  cows',  an'  de  'zerters  run  out  de 
bushes  an'  grab  me  an'  tied  me  an'  brung  me  in  yuh,  an' 
yuli  dey  been  makin'  me  do  dey  cookin'  an'  all  dey  dirty 
work.     Hit 's  de  fac'.     You  des  wait  an'  see  now." 

There  was  an  air  of  sincerity  about  the  negro  which 
made  the  boys  believe  him.  Besides,  they  remembered 
that  he  had  always  been  a  favorite  in  the  family,  and  had 
never  run  away  before. 

His  color  was  deep  black,  and  his  features  were  more 
pleasing  than  those  of  the  average  negro,  and  a  certain 


26  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

intelligence  and  gravity  of  the  eye  inspired  confidence. 
He  looked  quite  young,  but  his  age  may  liave  been  any- 
where between  twenty-five  and  forty  years. 

"  So  this  is  the  deserters'  island,"  said  Joe,  glancing 
around.     "  How  many  live  here  ? " 

"  Der  's  eight  of  'em  on  dis  islan',  an'  mo'  on  some  de 
others." 

"  Where  are  they  now  ? " 

"  Dey  ain't  come  in  yet.  Some  of  'em  runuin'  a  deer,  an' 
some  gone  ter  de  traps."  Asa  pointed  to  the  skins  hang- 
ing from  grape-vines  stretched  beneath  the  house,  and  also 
beneath  a  low  shelter  of  thatched  palmetto  fans.  "  Dey 
in  de  trappin'  business,"  he  added. 

At  this  moment  some  one  was  heard  coming  through 
the  bushes,  singing  in  a  peculiar  childish  voice,  — 

"  Open  the  gates  as  high  as  the  sky 
And  let  King  George's  army  pass  by." 

"  Dat  's  Billy,"  said  Asa.  "  He  ain't  got  good  sense,  you 
see  'im  so." 

A  barefoot  young  white  man,. clothed  in  rags,  entered 
the  clearing  at  a  trot,  and  ran  up  to  the  two  boys.  Fixing 
his  eyes  on  Joe,  he  inquired  with  a  giggle,  "  What 's  your 
name  ? "  When  Joe  had  told  him,  he  turned  to  Charley 
with  the  same  question. 

His  hair  was  light  in  color  and  soft  as  a  child's ;  but  his 
face  was  as  deeply  wrinkled  as  many  an  old  man's,  and 
wore  a  curious,  meaningless  smile.  His  pale  blue  eyes 
were  vacant,  yet  restless. 

"  He  is  n't  a  deserter,  is  he  ? "  asked  Joe  of  Asa,  aside. 


THE   DESERTERS'    CAMP.  27 

"  No ;  but  he  belong  to  one.  He 's  Sweet's  nigger,  an' 
I'm  Bubber's/'  said  Asa,  showing  his  white,  even  teeth. 
"  I  waits  on  Bubber,  an'  Billy  he  waits  on  Sweet.  Bubber 
stole  me,  you  know,  so  I  'm  his  'n.  I  reckon  Sweet  stole 
Billy,  too;  he  had  'ira  yuh  waitin'  on  'im  when  I  come." 

"  Who  are  they,  —  Bubber  and  Sweet  ?  " 

"Mr.  Bubber  Hardy  an'  Mr,  Sweet  Jackson  is  de  rino-- 
leaders  o'  de  'zerters,"  explained  Asa. 

In  almost  every  Cracker  family  there  is  a  "  Bubber,"  — 
a  little  boy  whose  brother  or  sister  lisps  out  "  bubber  "  in 
trying  to  say  brother.  Tlie  nickname  sometimes  follows 
an  unfortunate  boy  to  manhood.  So  had  it  been  in  the 
case  of  ''Bubber"  Hardy,  who,  according  to  Asa,  was 
"  cock  of  the  walk  "  among  the  deserters.  He  was  a  great 
stalwart  fellow,  with  a  waste  of  muscle  and  of  a  kindly 
disposition. 

Of  hardly  less  importance  was  "  Sweet "  Jackson,  — 
another  illustration  of  the  tenacity  of  Cracker  nursery 
nicknames,  —  who  was  second  only  to  Bubber  in  size, 
muscle,  and  consequent  authority.  He  was  less  popular, 
however,  being  sullen  and  ill-tempered. 

"  When  he  git  mad  he  don't  no  mo'  mind  knockin'  Billy 
aroun',"  continued  Asa,  looking  toward  tlie  half-witted  boy, 
who  was  still  questioning  Charley.  "  Bubber  ginnerly 
give  me  ter  understan'  I  got  ter  be  spry  an'  wait  on  him 
right ;  but  he  don't  never  jump  on  me  like  Sweet  do 
Billy." 

Further  description  of  the  leading  deserters  was  now 
cut  short  by  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps ;  and  Asa 
turned  hurriedly  to  the  fire,  where  he  had  been  frying  corn- 


28  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

bread.  The  boys  looked  arouud  in  time  to  see  a  large 
man  clad  in  dirty  homespun  advance  from  the  borders  of 
the  darkening  woods,  a  riile  over  his  arm,  followed  by  two 
others  carrying  a  small  doe  suspended  from  a  stick  whicli 
ran  across  their  shoulders.  Several  dogs  accompanied  the 
party. 

"  Dat  's  Sweet,"  whispered  Asa,  as  the  leading  hunter 
approached. 

The  two  men  threw  the  deer  down  on  a  carpet  of  pal- 
metto fans,  and  immediately  began  to  skin  it,  merely 
glancing  once  or  twice  at  the  boys.  The  leading  hunter, 
who,  according  to  Asa,  was  Sweet  Jackson,  presently 
showed  more  curiosity. 

"  Who-all  's  this  ? "  he  cried  gruffly,  approaching  the 
fire.  "Billy,  git  me  some  water,  quick  !  Whar  did  you 
boys  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  Trader's  Hill,  or  very  near  there,"  answered 
Joe. 

"  An'  what  you  doin'  'way  h-yuh  in  the  Okefenokee  ?  " 
he  asked,  adding,  with  a  sudden  suspicious  gleam  of  the 
eye,  "  They  sont  you  in  to  see  whar  the  deserters  was,  did 
they  ?     They  played  thunder  if  they  did." 

"  We  went  hunting  in  the  edge  of  the  swamp  and  got 
lost,"  answered  Joe,  simply. 

"  Well,  an'  how  did  you  git  across  tlie  perrarie  ?  " 

The  boys  told  him  how  they  had  struggled  through  the 
great  marsh.  The  man  asked  several  more  questions,  all 
indicating  suspicion. 

In  the  midst  of  Joe's  explanation  another  party  of 
hunters  came  out  of  the  dark  woods,  exhibiting  an  otter 


THE  DESERTERS'    CAMP.  29 

skin  as  their  only  but  by  no  means  insignificant  trophy. 
Among  them  was  the  "  cock  of  the  walk,"  Bubber  Hardy. 
Standing  in  the  background  long  enough  to  hear  the  out- 
line of  the  boys'  story,  he  approached  them  in  a  more 
friendly  way  than  any  one  else  had  as  yet  done. 

"  How  you  come  on,  boys  ?  "  he  said,  extending  his  hand 
to  Joe.  Then,  turning  to  Charley,  "  This  one 's  as  putty 
as  a  little  gal,"  he  continued,  smiling  admiringly.  "  He 
outfavors  his  brother." 

Charley  was  highly  indignant  at  this ;  but  both  he  and 
Joe  felt  intuitively  that  the  "  cock  of  the  walk "  woidd 
prove  their  best  friend  among  the  deserters.  As  he  put  a 
few  questions  to  them  and  listened  to  their  straightforward 
answers,  they  observed  him  narrowly. 

He  carried  an  army  rifle,  like  the  others,  and  was  dressed 
in  homespun,  the  loose,  ill-fitting  fabric  serving  to  give 
him  the  appearance  of  being  heavier  than  he  really  was. 
He  was  above  six  feet  tall,  and  evidently  an  uncommonly 
muscular  and  powerful  man.  What  attracted  the  boys 
was  the  kindly  gleam  of  his  eye  and  an  expression  of  quiet 
resolution  in  his  face,  which  was  rather  more  handsome 
and  intelligent-looking  than  that  of  any  of  the  others. 
The  boys  wondered  that  such  a  man,  who  looked  brave 
if  he  was  not,  should  have  become  a  deserter. 

Meanwhile  Asa  had  been  busy  frying  thin  strips  of  the 
fresh  venison  steak,  and  now  announced  that  supper  was 
ready.  The  men  silently  took  tlieir  places  round  the  fire, 
eating  and  drinking  heartily. 

The  boys  had  not  eaten  since  morning  and  were  raven- 
ously hungry,  but  did  not  move  from  their  place,  as  no 


30  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

iuvitation  was  given  them.  However,  they  were  not 
neglected.  At  the  biddhig  of  Bubber,  his  master,  Asa 
invited  them  to  sit  on  the  grass,  placed  a  palmetto  leaf 
between  them,  and  piled  it  high  with  fried  steak  and  bread. 
Later,  he  gave  each  of  them  a  cup  of  "  corn  coffee." 

The  hapless  Billy,  who  had  taken  the  liberty  of  appeas- 
ing his  hunger  before  the  others  began  to  eat,  now  lay  on 
the  ground,  singing  in  an  aimless,  tuneless  sort  of  way  : 

"  Meena —  myna  —  mo  — 
Ketch  a  nigger  by  the  toe. 
If  he  hollers,  let  him  go." 

The  young  man's  mind  was  evidently  still  in  its  childish 
state,  and  dwelt  with  delight  on  nursery  rhymes.  When 
Joe  and  Charley  had  satisfied  their  craving  for  food,  and 
begun  to  observe  him  more  closely,  he  was  declaiming : 

"  Queerao  —  quimo  —  dilmo  —  day 
Rick  —  stick  — pomididdle  —  Dido  — 
Sally  broke  the  paddle  over  Mingo's  head !  " 

He  was  beginning,  "One-two,  buckle  my  shoe  —  three- 
four,  open  the  door  —  five-six,  pick-up-sticks,"  etc.,  when 
Sweet  called  his  name  roughly,  and  sent  him  on  an  errand. 

"  What 's  the  news  about  the  war  ? "  asked  Bubber  of 
Joe,  as  the  men  lighted  their  pipes  and  settled  into  com- 
fortable lounging  positions  about  the  fire. 

"Very  bad,"  the  boy  answered,  with  a  sudden  trembling 
of  the  lip  as  he  thought  of  his  dead  brother,  "  Everything 
is  going  against  our  side." 

"  I  'm  mighty  sorry  of  it,"  rejoined  Bubber,  gazing  into 
the  fire  abstractedly. 


THE   DESEBTERS'    CAMP.  31 

"  "Well,  I  aiu't  a-cariu'  so  much,"  said  Sweet.  "  '  T  aiu't 
none  o'  my  lookout.     They  kin  settle  it  'twixt  'em." 

Several  of  the  men  grunted  approval  at  the  close  of  this 
speech.  Nevertheless,  Joe,  who  was  becoming  greatly  ex- 
cited, dared  to  bestow  a  look  of  contempt  on  the  speaker. 
Then,  looking  steadily  at  Bubber,  he  blurted  out,  — 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  men  can  have  the  heart  to  stay 
hid  in  here,  when  every  single  man  is  needed  at  the  front. 
I  —  I  —  I  'd  be  ashamed  !  " 

Bubber  winced.  Sweet  sat  erect  with  a  threatening  look, 
and  some  of  the  others  uttered  ejaculations  of  astouishmeut. 
Still  it  was  evident  that  the  boy's  bolduess  had  excited 
admiration.  Joe,  however,  did  not  perceive  his  advantage, 
and  for  the  time  his  courage  failed  him.  The  pause  was 
broken  by  Sweet. 

"Who's  ashamed?"  he  cried  with  derision.  "I  ain't, 
for  one.  What's  the  nse  o'  beatin'  an'  bangerin'  aroun' ? 
'T  ain't  none  o'  my  quiltiu'.  I  ain't  got  no  niggers  to 
fight  for." 

This  was  too  much  for  Joe.  "What's  that  got  to  do 
with  it  ? "  he  cried  indignantly,  and  began  to  speak  excit- 
edly of  State's  Eights  and  other  features  of  the  Cause, 
in  language  borrowed  from  his  father. 

"  It 's  got  a  lieap  to  do  with  it,  I  'm  a-thinkin',"  Bubber 
Hardy  remarked,  as  the  boy  paused,  conscious  of  his  impru- 
dence. "  Them  that  don't  own  niggers,  like  me,  naturally 
ain't  got  the  same  interest  in  it.  And  yit  I  ain't  proud  o' 
bein'  a  deserter  —  not  a  bit.  But,  niggers  or  no  niggers,  I 
had  good  reasons.  If  anybody  thinks  I  deserted  jes'  becaze 
I  was  a-scared  to  fight,  I  jes'  want  him  to  stand  up  right 
now  and  say  so." 


32  IN   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

After  tliis  challenge  there  was  a  pause.  Then  Bubber 
began  to  talk  about  an  occurrence  in  the  day's  hunting. 
By  and  by  the  conversation  dragged.  All  were  becoming 
drowsy.  One  by  one  the  men  rose  and  disappeared,  until 
only  Sweet,  Bubber,  and  the  two  boys  were  left.  Then 
Sweet  rose  and  said  to  his  comrade,  — 

"  What  you  aim  to  do  with  them  boys  to-night,  Bub- 
ber ?     We  got  to  keep  our  eye  on  them  boys." 

"  They  '11  sleep  with  me,"  said  Bubber. 

Shortly  after  this,  Hardy  lighted  a  torch,  and  bade  the 
boys  follow  him.  He  led  them  beneath  the  curious  log- 
house  standing  so  high  in  the  air, — a  precaution  against 
snakes  in  summer,  —  and  climbed  by  a  ladder  through 
a  square  opening  in  the  floor. 

Passing  the  sleeping  men,  whose  hard,  wrinkled  faces 
seemed  somewhat  softened  in  slumber,  Hardy  led  the  way 
to  the  extreme  end  of  the  room,  and,  giving  the  torch  to  Joe, 
began  to  scatter  and  broaden  his  really  comfortable  bed  of 
leaves  and  Spanish  moss,  so  as  to  make  room  for  the  boys 
between  himself  and  the  wall. 

Before  the  light  was  put  out,  'Charley  inquired  where 
Asa  slept,  and  was  told  that  at  night  he  was  kept  shut  up 
in  a  little  room  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  long  sleeping 
apartment.  There  was  no  window  in  all  the  structure, 
l)ut  enough  air  entered  between  the  logs  of  the  walls  and 
through  the  door  in  the  floor. 

The  boys  were  too  weary  to  waste  much  time  in  worry- 
ing about  their  situation,  and  soon  forgot  everything  in 
sound  sleep. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

PRISONERS. 

WHEX  Joe  and  Charley  awoke  next  morning,  they 
were  alone  in  the  sleeping-loft.  Descending  the 
ladder,  they  found  Asa  at  the  fire  with  something  for  them 
to  eat ;  and  after  they  had  washed  their  hands  and  faces, 
Asa  pouring  water  for  them,  they  ate  heartily.  All  but 
two  or  three  of  the  deserters  had  gone  off  to  the  traps, 
or  hunting,  and  these  two  or  three  were  nowhere  to  be 
seen  just  now.  By  the  time  Joe  and  Charley  had  made  a 
breakfast,  however,  Bubber  appeared. 

"  Well,  boys,  what  you  aim  to  do  ? "  he  asked  in  a 
friendly  way. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'd  like  to  do,"  said  Joe,  earnestly, 
encouraged  by  his  tone,  "  and  that  is,  persuade  you,  and 
as  many  of  the  rest  as  I  could,  to  give  up  this — this  de- 
serting —  and  go  back  to  the  war  again." 

Bubber  laughed  outright.  "  I  depend  you  've  laid  out 
to  do  a  big  job  of  work,"  said  he  ;  "  most  too  big,  I  reckon. 
Better  give  it  up.  Better  jes'  stay  h-yer  a  while  with  us, 
and  learn  to  hunt." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  staying  a  while  if — if  there  was  a 
chance  of  persuading  —  " 

"  But  ther'  ain't,  though,  so  you  'd  better  not  bother  your 
head  about  it,  son." 

3 


34  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  Well,  then,  all  I  can  do  is  to  take  Charley  and  Asa 
and  go  home." 

Bubber  laughed  again,  more  heartily  than  before. 

"  I  don't  much  think  the  other  gents  '11  be  willin'  to 
part  with  you  and  Charley  yet  a  while.  They  loves  com- 
p'ny,  you  know !  We  all  talked  it  over  this  mornin'. 
And  as  for  the  nigger  —  well,  I  don't  see  hardly  how  I 
could  spare  him." 

"  He 's  not  your  negro,"  cried  Joe,  indignantly.  "  He 
belongs  to  my  father,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  take  him,  too." 

"  He  b'longs  to  your  father,  shore  enough,"  rejoined 
Bubber ;  "  but,  you  see,  I  borryed  him,  and  as  they  use  to 
tell  me,  possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law." 

Joe  turned  away  angrily,  and,  calling  to  Asa,  bade  him 
make  ready  to  start  for  home.  He  was  too  nmch  excited 
to  see  how  utterly  powerless  be  was. 

"I  glory  in  your  spunk,  boy,"  remarked  Bubber,  quietly, 
"  but  I  think  you  are  wastin'  it.  If  I  was  in  your  place, 
I  'd  know  better  than  to  be  so  rambunctious." 

Joe  made  no  reply,  and  repeated  his  order  to  the  doubt- 
ful, hesitating  negro. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  Bubber,  sharply.  "  If  you  walk  off 
from  h-yer  with  that  nigger,  it  won't  be  five  minutes 
before  he  '11  be  knocked  down  and  dragged  back,  and  you 
and  Charley  '11  be  put  under  lock  and  key.  I  don't  say 
I  HI  do  it,  but  it'll  be  done  I  " 

Joe  now  began  to  realize  his  position.  Not  merely  was 
Asa  a  prisoner  in  the  deserters'  hands,  but  he  nnd  Charley 
as  well.  The  latter  could  control  himself  no  longer,  and 
began  crying. 


PRISONERS.  35 


"  Look  h-yer,"  said  Bubber,  "  if  we  was  to  let  you  and 
that  uigger  go,  fust  thing  we  'd  know  you  'd  be  guidiu'  a 
company  of  soldiers  to  this  h-yer  islant,  and  the  last  one  of 
us  would  be  led  out  and  shot." 

Joe  was  conscious  of  a  strong  impulse  to  bind  himself 
by  a  solemn  promise  against  any  such  action,  but  checked 
it  as  weak  and  unworthy,  as  he  thought  of  all  that  was 
involved. 

"  If  you  '11  agree  to  leave  the  uigger  and  say  nothin'  to 
nobody  when  you  git  home,"  continued  Bubber,  as  if 
divining  the  boy's  thoughts,  "  maybe  after  a  while  I  kin 
persuade  the  boys  to  let  me  take  you  across  the  perrarie 
and  put  you  on  the  trail  to  Trader's  Hill." 

"  I  won't  agree,"  said  Joe,  stoutly,  although  tears  started 
in  his  eyes,  and  Charley's  sobs  were  louder  than  before. 

"  All  right.     You  '11  stay  right  h-yer,  then  !  " 

So  ended  their  conference. 

"  Never  mind,  Charley  ;  don't  cry,"  said  Joe,  bravely,  as 
soon  as  Bubber  was  out  of  hearing.  "  We'll  just  have  to 
watch  our  chance  and  make  our  escape,  that 's  all.  Have 
you  tried  to  escape  yet,  Asa  ?  " 

Asa  answered  with  a  grunt  that  he  had  tried  it  once. 
He  had  gone  one  day  with  three  of  the  deserters  in  two 
boats  to  the  country  across  the  "  prairie  "  in  order  to  cut  a 
bee-tree,  and  while  there  had  made  a  dash  for  liberty ;  but 
he  was  soon  caught,  and  the  whipping  he  had  received 
was  a  warning  not  easily  forgotten.  He  had  never  tried 
it  again. 

"  Well,  we  must  watch  our  chance,"  Joe  repeated. 

But  before  the  day  was  gone  he  realized  that  the  op- 


36  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

portunities  likely  to  occur  would  be  few  aud  far  between. 
The  boys  were  free  to  walk  about  the  camp,  but  M-ere 
always  under  watch.  While  the  rest  of  the  men  were 
away  hunting  and  trapping,  at  least  two  were  always  in 
sight,  either  inspecting  their  stock  of  hides,  or  lounging 
about  lazily,  drinking  corn-beer  of  their  own  brewing,  and 
telling  yarns.  Asa  was  also  free  to  come  and  go  within 
certain  bounds ;  but  when  he  was  not  eniiaofed  in  brinmngr 
wood  and  water,  cooking  the  meals,  or  waiting  on  Bubber, 
he  generally  lay  tamely  on  the  grass  in  the  sun  and  dozed. 

A  certain  sympathy  and  friendship  existed  between  him 
and  the  half-witted  Billy.  They  were  fellows  in  mis- 
fortune. But  after  the  coming  of  Joe  and  Charley  the 
hapless  youth  transferred  his  attention  to  them.  Charley 
particularly  seemed  to  please  Billy.  He  hung  about  the 
camp  daring  all  of  that  first  day,  talking  sense  and  non- 
sense alternately,  and  repeating  many  nursery  rhymes. 

"  I  like  you,"  he  said  to  Charley  once.  "  Some  o'  these 
days  I  'm  goin'  to  take  you  to  see  son." 

"  You  have  n't  a  sou  ! "  said  Charley,  laughing. 

"Wait  till  I  show  him  to  you,  and  you'll  see." 

"  Who  is  he  ? " 

"  Never  you  mind,"  answered  Billy,  almost  exploding 
with  mirth.  "  You  '11  find  out  some  day  ;  you  '11  find  out, 
boy.  I  must  go  and  see  son  now,"  he  added  later,  with 
his  strange  laugh,  and  walked  off  into  the  woods. 

All  the  deserters  but  Bubber  and  Sweet  went  away 
early  the  next  morning, —  some  to  hunt,  others  to  visit  the 
many  traps  which  had  been  set  here  and  there  on  the 
island  and  in  the  surrounding  swamp. 


PRISOXEBS.  37 


Asa  had  just  finished  his  labors  after  breakfast,  and 
Bubber  was  lounging  near,  talking  amicably  with  Joe  and 
Charley  about  hunting,  when  Sweet  walked  up  and  asked  : 

"  You  goiu'  to  use  Asy  this  mornin',  Bubber  ? " 

"  Not  partic'lar." 

"  Well,  I  'd  like  to  borry  him.  I  'm  goin'  to  build  me  a 
permeter  shelter  for  my  owu  hides,  so  I  kin  spread  'em  out 
more." 

"  All  right." 

Thereupon  Asa,  who,  it  would  appear,  might  be  "  used  " 
and  "  borrowed  "  like  any  inanimate  thing,  was  led  away 
in  company  with  Billy.  Their  business  was  now  to  cut 
down  one  six-inch  sapling  for  posts,  and  several  two-inch 
ones  wherewith  to  frame  the  slanting  roof  which  these 
posts  would  support.  This  done,  they  must  gather 
hundreds  of  palmetto  fans  and  thatch  the  roof,  all  under 
the  direction  of  the  ill-tempered  Sweet. 

The  three  had  been  thus  engaged  some  thirty  minutes 
when  Bubber,  Joe,  and  Charley,  at  the  camp,  heard  sounds 
of  blows  and  screams.  A  few  steps  toward  the  spot  se- 
lected for  the  palmetto  shelter  revealed  the  cause  of  the 
uproar. 

Sweet,  completely  out  of  patience  with  the  half-witted 
and  trifling  Billy,  had  fallen  upon  him,  and  was  whipping 
him  with  a  long  supple  stick.  As  he  laid  on  his  blows 
more  and  more  fiercely,  in  spite  of  his  victim's  piteous 
cries,  the  boys  drew  near  in  horror,  slowly  followed  by 
Bubber. 

"  Stop  that ! "  cried  Joe,  hotly,  as  he  arrived  on  the 
scene. 


IN   THE   OKEFEXOKEE. 


"  I  '11  Stop  when  I  git  ready ! "  retorted  Sweet,  in  a  fury, 
pausing  for  a  moment,  "  And  if  you  give  me  any  yo' 
sass,  I  depend  I  '11  wallop  you  in  the  bargain.  You  're 
'most  too  spargy  for  me,  anyhow.  You  're  gittin'  too  big 
for  yo'  breeches." 

"You  coward !"  cried  Joe,  as  the  blows  recommenced. 
"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  beat  that  poor  half- 
witted —  " 

Here  Sweet  suddenly  let  Billy  go,  and  turned  upon  Joe 
with  uplifted  stick. 

"  Hit  him  if  you  dare  ! "  said  Bubber,  stepping  up  to 
them. 

"  'T  ain't  none  o'  yo'  business,  Bubber  Hardy ! "  cried 
Sweet,  threateningly,  turning  to  meet  the  new  attack. 

"  Hit 's  everybody's  business  when  you  jump  on  that 
poor  boy  Billy  that  way.     You  know  he  ain't  accountable." 

"  I  reckon  I  've  got  a  right  to  thrash  him  if  he  won't 
work  !  I  kin  hardly  make  him  lift  his  hand  to  do  a  thing, 
and  wlien  he  does  work  he  works  so  powerful  sorry  — " 

"  I  thought  you  was  more  of  a  man,  Sweet  Jackson." 

"  I  depend  I  'm  man  enougli-  to  give  you  all  you 
want ! "  the  man  replied  with  an  oath,  making  a  threaten- 
ing movement. 

Bubber  caught  one  end  of  the  uplifted  stick ;  it  broke 
between  them,  and  they  closed  in  hand-to-hand  combat. 
Luckily,  neither  was  armed  ;  if  either  had  been,  blood- 
shed nmst  have  followed.  As  it  was,  tliey  were  well 
matched,  and  it  was  evident  that  tlie  fight  must  be  a  long 
one. 

Joe  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  conflict  to  see  the 


PRISONERS.  39 


opportunity  which  it  offered  ;  but  Asa,  less  excited  by  such 
a  scene,  thought  more  quickly. 

"  Now  de  time ! "  whispered  the  negro,  in  a  low,  cautious 
voice  over  Joe's  shoulder.  "  Less  slip  off  an'  run  down  to 
de  boats.  Ef  we  git  dem  boats,  we  kin  git  away.  You 
an'  Charley  kin  take  one,  an'  Billy  one,  an'  me  one.  Ef  we 
git  out  on  dat  prairie  'mongst  dem  islants,  we  out  o'  dey 
reach.     Dey  can't  come  atter  us  far  widout  a  boat." 

The  negro  began  to  move  away,  calling  softly,  "  Come 
on,  Charley ! "  and  beckoning  in  a  commanding  way  to 
Billy.  Neither  Charley  nor  Billy  understood  what  he 
meant,  but  both  were  attracted  by  his  mysterious  manner, 
and  followed  him. 

Joe  hesitated,  his  glance  returning  to  the  two  com- 
batants. He  wondered  if  it  were  quite  lionorable  to  sneak 
away  while  Bubber  was  fighting  in  his  cause  as  well  as 
Billy's.  Still,  he  and  Charley  and  Asa  and  Billy  were 
unjustly  held  prisoners,  and  if  there  was  a  real  chance  of 
escape,  why  not  go  ? 

The  boy  thouglit  of  his  parents,  of  his  sister,  of  his  dead 
soldier  brother,  of  the  cowardly  men  who  had  deserted  in 
the  hour  of  direst  need,  — after  all,  the  kindly  Bubber  was 
only  one  of  these.  This  decided  Joe.  The  boy  saw  that 
Asa  was  now  as  far  as  tlie  camp,  and  Billy  and  Charley 
were  close  behind  him.  Charley  caught  Joe's  eye,  and 
beckoned.  Slipping  behind  a  clump  of  bushes,  Joe  ran  to 
the  spot  where  his  gun  stood. 

Passing  the  camp,  Asa  caught  up  a  tin  bucket  of  sliced 
venison  and  an  axe,  then  darted  along  the  winding  path 
through  the  swamp  cane  toward  the  boat  landing.     As  Joe 


40  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

hurried  along  the  same  path  a  few  moments  later  in  pur- 
suit of  them,  he  halted  suddenly  at  sight  of  Asa  and  the 
others  returning.  Charley  looked  crestfallen,  but  Billy 
was  giggling  as  usual.  He  liad  not  understood  what  they 
were  doing,  but  willingly  followed,  supposing  some  game 
had  been  proposed. 

"  De  boats  all  gone,"  said  Asa,  sorrowfully.  "  Mr. 
Thatcher  an'  Mr.  Lofton  must  'a'  took  'em  ter  go  ter  dey 
traps." 

"  Let 's  hurry  back,  then,"  said  Joe,  after  a  few  moments' 
blank  pause,  "  so  that  they  won't  know  we  tried  to 
escape." 

The  run  to  the  boat  landing  and  back,  a  distance  of 
little  more  than  two  hundred  yards,  had  scarcely  consumed 
five  minutes,  and  the  four  spectators  were  again  on  the 
scene  of  the  fight  before  the  combatants  had  noticed  their 
absence.  They  returned  just  in  time  to  see  Sweet  strike 
the  ground  heavily  beneath  the  weight  of  his  antagonist, 
who  now  partly  rose,  placing  his  knees  upon  the  breast  of 
the  vanquished. 

"  You  got  enough  ?  "  shouted  .Bubher.  "  If  you  ain't,  I 
kin  break  ever'  bone  in  your  body  'fore  I  quit." 

Sweet  said  nothing,  but  ceased  to  struggle.  Presently 
Bubber  let  go  his  hold,  and  rose. 

"  I  '11  git  even  with  you  yit,"  said  Sweet,  with  a  black 
look,  as  he  painfully  gathered  himself  up.  "  You  can't  git 
away  with  me  that  easy." 

The  victor  disdained  a  retort,  and  M-alked  back  to  the 
camp,  followed  by  the  two  boys,  leaving  Sweet  to  vent  his 
uncomfortable  feelings  in  threatening  curses. 


|^>    :^t  $^'N^ 


^ 


Ki^-, *;'^V'>  ^^1    J  \r.i 


%■  ^^; .  ^^jfe.  ;■ 


They  returned  just  in  time  to  see   Sweet  strike  the  ground  heavily, 
beneath  the  wei^lit  of  his  antagonist. — /''J;^''''  40. 


PRISONERS.  41 


The  round  of  camp  life  was  taken  up  again  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  A  week  passed,  during  which  no  further 
opportunity  to  escape  presented  itself.  Each  day  wit- 
nessed a  gradual  weakening  of  Joe's  resolve  not  to  make 
the  promise  required  by  the  chief  of  his  captors. 

Thoughts  of  his  father,  his  mother,  his  sister,  haunted 
the  boy ;  what  would  they  think  when  they  returned  home 
and  found  that  he  and  Charley  had  gone,  no  one  could  tell 
where  ?  Had  the  people  at  home  not  grief  and  anxiety 
enough  already  ?  Ten  days  had  now  passed  since  they 
had  gone  down  the  river,  and  probably  they  were  at  home 
by  this  time.  Perhaps  they  were  even  now  searching  for 
the  lost  boys.  It  was  difficult  to  hold  out,  tormented  by 
these  thoughts. 

The  boys  had  been  just  one  week  on  Deserters'  Island, 
when  one  morning  Joe  said  to  Bubber,  — 

"  If  you  '11  let  us  go,  Mr.  Hardy,  I  '11  promise  you  I 
won't  guide  anybody  back  here,  or  tell  where  you  are." 

"  I  reckoned  you  'd  say  that  bimeby,"  answered  Bubber. 

"  If  you'll  take  us  across  the  prairie  and  put  us  on  the 
trail  to  Trader's  Hill,  we  '11  leave  Asa  and  won't  inform 
against  you.  It 's  wrong  to  do  it,"  Joe  added ;  "  but  I 
must  do  it  on  account  of  my  mother  and  father ;  they  have 
trouble  enough  without  this." 

Hardy  was  vastly  amused  at  Joe's  air  of  condescension, 
and  smiled  grimly.  "  If  I  was  a  mind  to,  I  might  devil  * 
you  a  little,"  he  said,  "  but  I  won't.  I  '11  go  talk  it  over 
with  the  boys,"  he  added. 

He  did  talk  it  over  with  "  the  boys,"  as  he  called  the 

*  Cracker  for  tease. 


42  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Other  deserters ;  aud  later  in  the  day  he  informed  Joe  that 
it  could  not  be  done.     The  other  men  refused  to  consent. 

"  I  reckon  you  boys  will  have  to  put  up  with  our  com- 
pany a  while  longer,"  Bubber  said  to  them  with  a  twinkle 
of  the  eye.  "  You  must  n't  think  I  was  jes'  devillin'  you," 
he  added  seriously.  "I'mwilliu'  to  take  your  word  and 
let  you  go,  specially  as  ther's  mighty  little  likelihood  of 
yer  ever  bein'  able  to  find  yer  way  in  h-yer  again.  But 
the  rest  of  'em  won't  risk  it." 

At  first  Joe  and  Charley  were  very  angry,  the  former 
not  hesitating  to  show  it ;  but  they  soon  cooled  down,  and 
became  very  much  depressed. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Joe  to  Charley  and  Asa  later ; 
"  maybe  we  '11  make  our  escape  before  long  anyhow,  aud 
then  we  '11  be  free  to  tell  the  soldiers  where  to  find  them." 

Another  week  passed,  —  a  wearying  waste  of  time,  during 
which  the  young  prisoners  were  a  prey  to  growing  anxiety. 
They  were  never  allowed  to  go  out  of  sight  of  camp,  ex- 
cept now  and  then  to  follow  a  deer-liunt,  in  the  company 
of  half-a-dozen  men. 

They  were  not  ill-treated  :  they. were  well  fed  ;  they  slept 
warm  and  dry  at  night ;  they  found  some  amusement  in 
hunting,  in  Billy's  follies,  in  listening  to  Asa's  tales  and 
to  the  deserters'  yarns.  But  every  hour  they  chafed,  and 
were  constantly  proposing  plans  and  watching  for  oppor- 
tunities to  escape. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DIVERSION   IN    CAPTIVITY. 

ONE  morning  about  two  o'clock  a  large  animal  came 
close  to  the  camp,  probably  attracted  by  the  refuse 
of  a  deer's  carcass ;  and  all  hands  were  roused  by  the 
furious  baying  of  the  dogs.  Snatching  up  their  guns,  the 
deserters  to  the  last  man  sallied  out  and  followed  in  pur- 
suit. Billy  ran  after  them,  and  Joe  and  Charley  were  left 
alone  with  Asa. 

The  eager  hunters  were  hardly  two  hundred  yards  away 
before  Joe  and  Asa  looked  at  each  other  significantly 
across  the  camp-fire,  now  stirred  to  a  bright  blaze.  They 
began  their  preparations  without  a  word  and  without  a 
moment's  delay.  Joe  took  his  gun,  Charley  his  hatchet, 
and  Asa  collected  some  eatables  in  a  bucket  and  picked 
up  an  axe. 

They  were  still  at  the  fire  when  the  sound  of  footsteps 
startled  them,  and  a  voice  shouted,  — 

"  Bubber  says  you  all  come,  too.  Come  on,  quick  ! 
Ever'  las'  one  of  ye." 

The  two  men  who  had  hurriedly  returned  on  this  errand 
halted  as  soon  as  they  were  within  call,  and  waited  im- 
patiently to  be  joined  by  the  negro  and  the  boys,  evidently 
afraid   they  niiglit  miss   seeing   the   game  run   to  earth. 


44  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Xothirig  but  the  fear  that  the  boys  might  run  away  and 
betray  them  could  have  induced  them  to  return. 

The  two  boys  and  the  negro  exchanged  glances ;  clearly 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  Armed  as  they  were,  they 
moved  forward  at  the  bidding  of  the  two  deserters,  Asa 
delaying  only  to  drop  the  bucket  of  food  out  of  sight  in 
the  bushes. 

The  cause  of  the  excitement,  which  proved  to  be  a  bear, 
had  beaten  a  hasty  retreat  toward  the  centre  of  the  island, 
and  there,  being  hard  pressed,  climbed  a  tall  pine.  By 
the  time  the  hunters  reached  the  spot,  the  bear  had  com- 
fortably ensconced  himself  among  the  clustering  boughs 
at  the  top.  Nothing  could  be  done  now  until  daylight,  and 
the  hunters  proceeded  to  make  themselves  comfortable. 
Several  fires  were  built,  forming  a  circle  around  the  tree, 
in  order  to  make  sure  that  the  bear  would  remain  where 
he  was  in  case  the  watchers  should  fall  asleep. 

Then  Asa  was  sent  back  to  camp,  in  the  company  of 
two  men,  to  bring  a  jug  of  corn-beer  and  something  to  eat. 
The  besiegers  had  a  merry  time  of  it  during  the  three 
hours  of  waiting.  Even  Joe  and  Charley  forgot  their  dis- 
appointment in  their  absorbed  interest  in  what  was  taking 
place.  The  treeing  of  a  bear  in  a  tall  pine  after  this 
fashion  was  considered  a  very  remarkable  occurrence  by 
even  those  deserters  who  were  old  hunters.  Several  de- 
clared that  they  had  never  seen  anything  like  it. 

"  The  old  Okefenokee  is  the  place  to  run  up  on  curious 
things,"  said  Bubber  Hardy,  musingly.  (He  pronounced 
the  word  "  Oke-fe-noke."  )  He  was  lounging  on  the  grass 
near  one  of  the  fires,  the  two  boys  and  several  of  the 
men  in  his  company. 


DIVERSION  IN   CAPTIVITY.  45 

"  I  've  seeu  a  heap  o'  strange  things  in  this  phace,"  he 
continued,  "  when  I  use  to  come  in  h-3'er  huutin'  before 
the  war  broke  out.  I  reckon  you  boys  would  n't  believe 
me,  would  you,  if  I  was  to  tell  you  I  seen  a  catfish  whip 
a  moccasin  in  h-yer  one  time  ? " 

The  men  lauglied  incredulously,  but  demanded  the 
particulars. 

Bubber  showed  no  haste  to  satisfy  their  curiosity, 
quietly  drinking  a  long  draught  of  corn-beer  from  a  gourd 
passed  to  him  by  Asa.  "  Gini-me  a  chaw  0'  tobaccer,"  he 
then  requested  of  his  nearest  neighbor,  who  was  known  as 
Zack  Lofton. 

"  I  ain't  got  none  with  me,"  was  the  apologetic  response, 
which  evidently  failed  to  carry  conviction. 

"  You  never  do  have  none  ivith  you,  looks  like  to  me," 
said  Bubber,  smiling  rather  coldly.  "  Lofton  is  about  as 
stingy  as  they  make  'em,"  he  added,  addressing  the  others. 
"  I  believe  he  'd  skin  a  flea  for  its  hide  and  tallow." 

Lofton  did  not  enjoy  the  general  laugh  which  greeted 
this  pleasantry ;  and  if  any  other  man  present  but  the 
"  cock  of  the  walk  "  had  uttered  it,  he  would  have  given 
him  the  lie  very  promptly.  As  it  was,  he  contented  him- 
self with  retorting  in  an  injured  tone,  — 

"  You'v^e  chawed  a  heap  o'  my  baccer,  Bubber  Hardy." 

Being  provided  by  some  one  else  with  the  desired 
"  chaw,"  Bubber  proceeded  to  tell  his  story.  It  was,  in 
substance,  that  he  had  once  seen  a  moccasin  spring  upon 
a  catfish  in  a  shallow  lagoon  of  the  swamp,  and  promptly 
get  "whipped;"  that  is  to  say,  disastrous  consequences 
resulted  from   the   snake's  attempt   to  swallow  its   prey. 


46  7.V   THE   OKEFEXOKEE. 

For  the  fish  immediately  "  popped "  its  formidable  fins 
through  the  reptile's  throat,  and  all  efforts  on  the  part  of 
the  latter  to  disgorge  its  victim  proved  futile. 

"  I  depend  that  moccasin  reared  from  away  back  and 
■was  as  vigeous  a  snake  as  you  ever  laid  eyes  on,"  Bubber 
declared,  with  a  laugh  ;  "  but  it  bit  off  more  'n  it  could  chaw, 
shore  enough,  that  time." 

He  wound  up  by  saying  that  the  snake  crawled  off 
rapidly  out  of  sight ;  but  several  hours  later,  returning  past 
the  same  neighborhood,  he  found  it  lying  dead,  the  tail 
of  the  fish  still  protruding  from  its  mouth  and  the  fins 
visibly  transfixing  its  neck.  The  catfish  still  lived,  and 
Bubber  was  induced  to  go  to  the  trouble  of  liberating  it. 

Hardy's  listeners  had  expected  a  jest,  but  they  accepted 
the  story  as  matter  of  fact,  or  at  any  rate  as  probable 
enough;  and  no  one  presumed  to  give  expression  to 
doubts,  if  any  were  felt. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  much  spinning  of  yarns,  — 
some  of  them  quite  remarkable,  —  which  amusement,  witli 
intervals  devoted  to  jesting  and  discussion  on  suggested 
topics,  was  kept  up  until  daylight. 

"That  ain't  ez  strange  as  some  things  I've  seen  in  the 
Oke-fe-noke,"  said  a  thin  wiry  little  man  known  as  Bud 
Jones.  Although  a  white  man,  and  apparently  not  lack- 
ing in  "  hard  "  common-sense,  he  was  noted  for  his  firm 
belief  in  witchcraft. 

With  this  introduction  to  his  tale,  he  went  on  very 
seriously  to  relate  how  a  charmed  deer  had  come  "  right 
up  "  to  Idni  three  times  in  the  swamp  one  day,  and  how 
he  had  tried  to  shoot  it  down  in  vain.     He  assured  his 


DIVERSION  IN  CAPTIVITY.  47 

hearers  that  if  he  could  have  mouhied  a  silver  bullet 
and  shot  that,  he  would  have  been  successful.  He  had 
heard  that  the  like  had  been  done  in  a  similar  case,  but 
admitted  that  the  authorities  differed  as  to  the  result ; 
some  said  that  the  charmed  deer  had  thus  been  brought 
to  earth,  but  others  claimed  that  upon  the  discharge  of 
the  mysterious  silver  bullet  the  animal  had  vanished 
away  "right  there  in  the  broad  open  day." 

In  proof  of  the  reality  and  efficacy  of  charms,  Bud 
Jones  related  further  how  once,  long  ago,  his  own  mother 
had  sickened,  and  was  afflicted  with  great  fear  of  a  certain 
old  woman  in  her  neighborhood ;  how,  at  last,  some  one 
advised  her  to  wear  red  pepper  in  her  shoes,  and,  having 
done  so,  how  she  promptly  recovered  her  health  and  was 
relieved  of  all  further  apprehension. 

Bubber  Hardy  and  most  of  the  others  smiled  incredu- 
lously at  this  story ;  but  Asa  listened  witli  a  solemn  face 
and  absorbed  attention. 

"  Dat  's  de  trufe,  you  year  me,"'  he  declared  in  a  low 
earnest  aside  to  Joe.  "  A  'oman  put  bad  mouf  on  me  dat-a 
way  one  time,  and  I  tell  you  she  everlas'nly  gim-me  de 
devil,  too." 

"  You  ought  to  have  more  sense,  Asa,"  was  the  unsym- 
pathizing  reply. 

"Well,  Joe,  what's  the  strangest  thing  you've  seen  in 
the  Oke-fe-noke  ? "  asked  Biibber,  after  several  other  men 
had  related  more  or  less  startling  experiences. 

The  boy  felt  like  replying,  in  substance,  that  the 
strangest,  most  unaccountable,  most  infamous  sight  he  had 
seen  in  the  great  swamp  was  a  party  of  able-bodied  men 


48  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

in  hiding,  once  called  soldiers,  who  had  deserted  their 
posts  of  duty  in  the  hour  of  greatest  need.  Prudence, 
however,  restrained  him. 

"I  haven't  seen  as  much  of  it  as  the  rest  of  you,"  lie 
said  modestly,  after  a  moment's  thought;  "but  the  stran- 
gest story  about  it  I  ever  heard  was  the  one  father  said  the 
Indians  used  to  tell  a  hundred  years  ago." 

"  Less  hear  it,"  cried  several. 

So  Joe,  after  his  own  boyish  fashion,  relatad  the  old 
Indian  legend  which  pictured  the  remote  interior  of  the 
Okefenokee  as  a  high  and  dry  land,  and  one  of  the  most 
blissful  sj)ots  of  earth,  where  dwelt  beautiful  w^omen  called 
daughters  of  the  Sun.  Some  warriors  of  the  Creek  nation, 
lost  in  the  interminable  bogs  and  jungles,  and  confronted 
with  starvation  and  despair,  were  once  on  a  time  rescued 
and  lovingly  cared  for  by  these  radiant  creatures.  And  ere 
the  belated  warriors  were  led  out  of  the  confusing  laby- 
rinths and  sent  on  tlieir  way,  they  were  fed  bountifully 
with  dates,  oranges,  and  corn-cake.  There  may  have  been 
other  good  things,  but  Joe's  memory  could  vouch  for  only 
the  dates,  oranges,  and  corn-cake. 

Joe  remembered  that  his  father  had  said  it  was  a  ])ity 
that  ambrosia  was  not  substituted  for  the  last  item.  Corn- 
cake  is  doubtless  a  good  and  useful  thing  in  its  own  way  ; 
but  something  a  little  less  commonplace  would  seem  more 
fitting  in  the  realm  of  legend.  Tlie  maize,  however,  was 
])robably  regarded  by  the  Creek  Indian  as  one  of  the  most 
precious  and  useful  gifts  of  the  gods,  and  therefore  not 
unworthy  of  a  place  in  this  legend  of  the  daughters  of  the 
Sun  who  dwelt  in  the  great  Okefenokee. 


DIVERSION  IN  CAPTIVITY.  49 

The  deserters  one  and  all  seemed  interested  in  the  story, 
and  paid  Joe  the  compliment  of  inviting  him  to  tell  an- 
other, —  an  invitation  which  he  modestly  declined. 

The  fires  were  now  replenished,  further  draughts  of  beer 
were  drunk,  fresh  pipes  were  lighted,  and  the  spinners  of 
yarns  began  another  series  devoted  to  the  "  tight  scrapes  " 
in  which  they  had  found  themselves  occasionally  in  the 
Okefenokee.  One  man  told  of  a  deadly  hand-to-hand 
conflict  with  a  wounded  bear ;  another  of  a  thrilling  un- 
armed fight  with  a  wild- cat ;  a  third  related  how  he  had 
once  sunk  down  suddenly  to  his  armpits  in  the  "prairie," 
how  he  had  saved  himself  by  grasping  the  growth  on  a  small 
tussock  within  arm's  length,  and  how  he  was  confronted 
there,  before  he  could  drag  himself  out,  by  an  angry  moc- 
casin, which  luckily  he  shot. 

"  Talkin'  'bout  tight  scrapes  puts  me  in  mind  o'  the  time 
I  went  tiger-huntin'  with  Seth  Mixon,"  spoke  up  Zack 
Lofton,  who  had  said  little  till  now. 

"  Tiger-h\x.nt\n  ? "  repeated  Joe,  in  astonishment.  "  There 
are  no  tigers  in  this  country." 

"  I  depend  if  I  ain't  seen  a  tiger  in  this  swamp  more  'n 
once  in  my  time,  and  ez  survigeous  a  beast  ez  you  want 
to  run  up  on,  my  name  ain't  Lofton ! "  was  the  emphatic 
response. 

"  Some  calls  *em  tigers,  but  they  ain't  nothin'  but  pan- 
thers," explained  Bubber  Hardy. 

"  Me  and  Seth  come  in  at  the  Pocket  on  t'  other  side," 
continued  Lofton,  referring  to  a  peninsula  extending  about 
ten  miles  into  the  Okefenokee  on  the  western  side,  near 
the   point  where  the  fameil   Suwanee  emerges  from  the 

4 


50  IN   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

great  swamp,  its  mother,  a  sluggish  little  river  of  dark,  wine- 
colored  water.  "  It 's  fifteen  years  ago  now  and  better. 
We  got  in  ez  fur  ez  Billy's  Islant  by  niglit  and  camped 
there ;  and  that  night  we  heard  a  curious  hoUerin'  in 
the  swamp  that  sounded  a  little  like  a  poor-job,  and  a 
little  bit  like  a  cryin'  baby,  and  we  knowed  it  must  be  a 
tiger." 

Accordingly,  very  soon  after  breaking  camp  next  morn- 
ing they  saw  panther  signs.  But  the  dog  soon  lost  the 
scent,  the  panther,  like  the  wild-cat,  being  accustomed  to 
traverse  the  jungle  less  perhaps  afoot  than  on  high  among 
the  interlacing  branches.  It  was  now  proposed  that  the 
two  hunters  separate,  agreeing  to  hail  each  otlier  after  a 
certain  length  of  time. 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  Lofton  stole  guardedly  through  a 
clump  of  tall  bushes  and,  thus  screened,  looked  across  a 
small,  comparatively  open  space,  he  observed  a  curious 
agitation  of  the  underbrush  about  fifty  yards  distant.  Leap- 
ing to  the  conclusion  that  the  panther  was  there,  and  de- 
ciding to  risk  a  chance  shot,  he  raised  his  gun,  and  was 
taking  aim  at  the  swaying  branches,  when  he  received  a 
sudden  stunning  blow  which  knocked  him  off  his  feet.  As 
he  fell,  he  was  conscious  of  the  sound  of  a  gun's  report,  and 
of  a  stinging,  tearing  pain  in  his  right  shoulder.  He  had 
been  shot. 

"  I  groaned  and  kicked  powerful  lively,"  said  Lofton, 
with  a  grim  smile;  "but  wlien  another  load  o'  buck-shot 
came  a  whistlin'  thoo  them  bushes  right  over  my  head,  I 
laid  there  mighty  still.  I  gethered  my  gun,  tliough  —  with 
my  left  hand  —  and  ef  I  could  'a'  got  at  that  blasted  fool. 


DIVERSION  IN  CAPTIVITY.  51 

Seth  Mixon,  right  then,  he  'd  'a'  h-yeard  from  me.  I  was 
so  mad  I  a'most  believed  he  shot  me  a-purpose." 

He  was,  however,  prudent  enough  to  call  out ;  and  the 
horrified  Mixon  ran  to  him,  protesting  that  he  thought  he 
was  shooting  the  "  tiger  "  ! 

"  I  come  mighty  nigh  makin'  the  same  mistake,  but  I 
got  fightin'  mad  all  the  same,"  Lofton  declarea,  with  some- 
thing of  regret ;  "  and  I  depend  I  give  Seth  Mixon  a  piece 
o'  my  mind  that  day.  I  got  u]5  and  tried  to  walk  home, 
but  had  to  lay  down  agin',  and  kep'  gittin'  weaker  and 
weaker.  Mixon  said  the  only  thing  to  do  was  for  him  to 
go  and  git  a  horse  and  put  me  on  it,  but  I  'd  have  to  lay 
there  the  best  part  of  a  day  'fore  he  could  git  back.  I  told 
him  to  cut  out,  and  off  lie  went,  blazin'  the  trees  behiud 
him.  It  want  long  'fore  I  felt  sort  o'  numb  like,  and  dreckly 
I  sort  o'  dozed  off —  fainted,  I  reckon.  I  'd  clean  forgot 
about  the  tioer ;  but  when  I  come  to  I  'membered  it  a^in 
mighty  quick. 

"  I  knowed  sump'n  was  up  soon  ez  I  seen  my  dog  fidgetin' 
aroun'  and  whinin'.  The  hair  was  up  straight  on  his  back, 
and  his  tail  was  'tween  his  legs.  But  soon  as  ever  he  seen 
me  stirrin'  he  showed  more  spunk,  and  commenced  to  bark 
at  some  thick  brush  'bout  forty  foot  off.  I  knowed  right 
off  it  was  the  tiger,  and  that  it  smelt  my  blood  and  was 
after  me.  Dreckly  I  seen  its  tail  workin'  back  and  forth 
up  on  a  high  limb,  and  I  knowed  it  was  fixin'  to  jump." 

Observing  that  every  one  around  the  fire  was  listening 
intently,  Lofton  took  a  fresh  chew  of  tobacco,  and  went  on 
to  tell  how,  for  some  little  time  longer,  he  lay  perfectly 
quiet,  fearing  that  the  slightest  movement  would  be  the 


52  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

signal  for  the  attack.  At  length,  unable  longer  to  bear 
the  suspense,  he  partly  raised  himself  up,  grasping  his  gun 
with  his  left  hand. 

The  moment  he  did  so,  the  panther  tore  through  the 
obstructing  branches  with  a  horrible  growl,  and  sprang  at 
him.  But  the  distance  was  too  great,  and  the  beast  struck 
the  earth  some  ten  feet  away.  Before  it  gathered  itself  for 
another  leap,  the  dog  had  sprung  forward  in  defence  of  his 
fallen  master. 

"  Then  they  had  it,  nip  and  tuck,  tooth  and  nail,  and  sich 
howlin'  and  snarlin'  I  never  h-yeard  in  all  my  born  days." 

Struggling  to  his  knees,  Lofton  managed  to  cock  his  gun 
and  raise  it  to  his  shoulder  with  his  left  hand  and  arm ;  but 
he  hesitated  to  pull  the  trigger,  fearing  to  shoot  his  dog. 
For  the  two  animals,  fighting  to  the  death,  were  never  still 
for  one  moment,  now  here,  now  there,  backward  and  for- 
ward, now  rolling  over  on  the  ground  and  gradually  nearing 
the  wounded  man.  In  a  short  time  it  was  evident  that  the 
dog  was  failing. 

"  I  was  shore  my  time  hed  come,"  said  Lofton,  solemnly, 
"  but  I  held  my  gun  and  watched  my  chance.  They  kep' 
a-comin'  closer,  a-wheelin'  roun',  and  dreckly  the  tiger  made 
a  jump  and  fetched  herself  and  the  dog  with  her  in  three 
feet  o'  me ;  and,  sir,  I  leaned  over  quick  ez  a  flash  and  put 
the  muzzle  o'  my  gun  right  spang  aginse  the  back  side  o' 
her  head,  and  blazed  away. 

"  Well,  mebby  you  won't  believe  it,  men,  but  that  cat 
jumped  right  straight  up  ten  or  twelve  foot  high,  jerkin' 
loose  from  the  dog.  When  T  seen  her  comin'  down,  look  to 
me  like  she  was  comin'  right  for  me,  and  I  sort  o'  give  up 


DIVERSION  IN   CAPTIVITY.  53 

aud  went  off  agia.  You  see,  I  'd  been  bleedin'  like  a  hog, 
and  was  mighty  weak. 

"  And  what  you  reckon  ?  When  I  come  to,  the  tiger 
was  layin'  dead  on  one  side  o'  me,  and  the  dog  putty  uigli 
dead  on  t'  other.  I  thought  he  was  dead  at  first,  and  I 
a'most  broke  down  and  cried.  I  dunner  how  long  I  laid 
there ;  I  did  n't  have  no  sense  left  scacely,  and  it  was  a 
mighty  good  thing  another  tiger  did  n't  come  along  that 
day. 

"  By  and  by  I  heard  'em  comin'  thoo  the  swamp  •,  and 
when  they  got  to  me  and  lifted  me  up  and  put  me  on  the 
horse,  and  one  o'  Seth  Mixon's  boys  says, '  Shoot  that  dog 
and  put  him  out'n  his  mizry,'  I  up  an'  spoke  a  piece  o'  my 
mind,  and  I  made  'em  strap  that  dog  on  the  horse  behind 
me  'fore  I  was  done. 

"Well,"  Lofton  concluded,  gazing  absently  into  the  fire, 
"  they  got  ns  home,  and  we  both  got  well  atter  a  while,  — 
me  aud  the  dog ;  but  ther  's  a  buck-shot  or  two  in  my 
shoulder  yit,  and  sometimes  it  hurts  me  so  I  kin  scacely 
strike  a  lick  o'  work.  You  mer  say  what  you  please,  but 
that  was  the  tightest  scrape  I  was  ever  in." 

"So  that's  what  makes  you  lame  in  the  right  arm  ?  I 
always  thought  you  got  that  wound  in  the  war,"  remarked 
Bubber  Hardy. 

Joe  and  Charley  were  both  intensely  interested  in  this 
story,  acceptiug  it  without  question ;  but  the  former  now 
noted  a  slightly  sceptical  expression  on  the  face  of  the  "  cock 
of  the  walk,"  who  evidently  cherished  no  admiration  for 
Lofton. 

"  Day 's  a-breakin' ! "  some  one  called  out  at  this  moment ; 


54  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

and  the  loungers  about  the  fire  sprang  to  their  feet,  turning 
their  eyes  toward  the  top  of  the  pine,  where  the  bear  had 
taken  refuge. 

As  soon  as  there  was  sufficient  light  to  outline  the  black 
bulky  form  among  the  branches,  the  hunters  opened  fire, 
one  at  a  time,  and  at  the  thirteenth  shot  the  big  game  came 
tumbling  down,  striking  the  earth  with  tremendous  force. 

The  bear  measured  seven  inches  across  the  ball  of  the 
foot,  and  three  inches  through  the  fat  on  the  round,  and 
the  total  weight  was  calculated  at  not  less  than  four  hun- 
dred pounds.  The  skin  was  carefully  taken  off,  many 
pounds  of  the  choicest  meat  sliced  to  dry,  and  the  rest  of 
the  carcass  left  where  it  was  for  the  vultures.  When  the 
sun  was  some  two  hours  high,  all  hands,  in  great  good 
humor,  returned  to  camp  and  partook  of  the  hot  breakfast 
which  Asa  had  now  prepared. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CHARLEY  IS   INTRODUCED    TO   "  SON,"  AND   LISTENS   TO    A 
STORY. 

AFTER  eating  a  heavy  breakfast,  most  of  the  deserters 
lay  down  on  the  grass  in  the  shade  and  went  to  sleep- 
Joe,  too,  felt  drowsy  after  the  unwonted  loss  of  sleep  occa- 
sioned by  the  bear-hunt,  and  presently  followed  the  exam- 
ple of  his  captors.  Thus  Charley  and  the  lialf-witted  Billy 
were  left  alone  with  Asa,  who  busied  himself  washing  the 
pots  and  pans  over  the  fire. 

"We  had  such  a  good  chance  last  night,"  remarked 
Charley,  regretfully,  —  "if  only  they  had  n't  remembered 
and  sent  for  us.     Did  n't  we,  Asa  ? " 

"  Xum-mind,"  said  Asa,  consolingly  ;  "  we  '11  git  another 
chance.  Some  dese  days  dey  '11  clean  fergit  us,  an'  we  '11 
gie  'em  de  slip.     We  '11  lead  'em  a  race  some  dese  days." 

"A  chance  to  run  a  race?"  asked  Billy,  vaguely.  "Is 
that  what  you  want  ?  I  '11  run  a  race  with  you  right  now." 
His  vacant  eyes  quickened  with  a  sudden  enthusiasm. 

"We  didn't  want  to  run  a  race^^  answered  Charley,  dis- 
couragingly. 

Suddenly  the  half-witted  young  man  leaned  over  toward 
Charley,  and  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  with  the  air  of 
one  conferring  a  priceless  favor,  — 


56  7.V   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  Would  you  like  to  come  now  and  see  son  ?    Say,  boy  ? " 

"  Who  is  '  son '  ? "  asked  Charley,  curiously,  "  Yes  ;  I  'd 
like  to  see  him." 

"  Come  on,  then." 

Asa  was  now  engaged  in  vigorously  scraping  one  of  his 
pans,  and  did  not  overhear  this.  When  he  looked  up  again 
from  his  work,  Charley  and  Billy  had  risen  and  walked 
away.  The  latter,  who  had  fished  out  of  his  pocket  a 
small  wriggling  frog  and  carried  it  in  his  hand,  led  the  way 
through  the  woods  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  halting  at 
last  near  the  clay-covered  roots  of  a  large  pine  that  had 
fallen  during  a  storm.  At  the  base  of  this  was  a  small 
round  hole  in  the  earth,  and  here  Billy  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  began  repeating  in  a  strange,  monotonous,  coaxing 
voice,  — 

"  Doodle,  doodle,  come  out  your  hole  !  Doodle,  doodle, 
come  out  your  hole  ! " 

Tliese  are  the  mystic  words  popularly  believed  among 
the  children  of  the  Southern  States  to  be  potent  to  call 
forth  from  ambush  the  ant-lion,  which  crafty  insect  pre- 
pares over  its  nest  a  kind  of  pitfall  for  ants.  Charley  saw 
at  a  glance  that  this  was  no  ant-lion's  pitfall. 

"That's  not  a  doodle-hole;  that's  a  snake's  hole,"  he 
exclaimed,  stepping  backward.  And  indeed  the  hole  was 
hardly  less  than  two  inches  in  diameter. 

Billy  made  no  reply,  and  continued  witliout  intermis- 
sion his  peculiar  recitation  of  the  supposed  charm. 

"  I  hear  him  a-comin',"  he  said  softly,  at  last.  Then,  in 
a  gentle,  caressing  voice,  he  continued,  "  Come  on,  son  ; 
come  on,  son." 


CHARLEY  IS  INTRODUCED    TO   ''SON."  57 

In  a  few  moments  a  large  rattlesnake  glided  out  of  the 
hole,  and  seized  the  frog  from  Billy's  fingers.  Charley 
backed  rapidly  away,  and  sprang  upon  a  log,  but  Billy  did 
not  move  from  his  place,  and  showed  no  fear  whatever. 

"  Come  away  from  there  ! "  cried  Charley,  all  amazement. 
"  You  Billy  —  that  snake  will  bite  you  !  " 

"  Son  won't  bite  me,"  replied  Billy,  confidently.  "  Son 
knows  me.  You  neenter  be  a-scared,  boy  ;  son  won't  hurt 
you  if  I  tell  him  not  to." 

So  this  was  "son,"  —  this  was  the  great  mystery  which 
poor  Billy  had  seemed  so  to  delight  in ! 

"  If  you  don't  come  away,  I  won't  stay  here,"  cried  Char- 
ley, urgently.  He  was  really  alarmed  for  Billy's  safety, 
being  convinced  that  as  soon  as  the  snake  had  swallowed 
the  frog,  the  foolish  boy  would  be  bitten. 

After  begging  him  again  and  again  to  come  away,  Char- 
ley jumped  down  from  the  log  and  hurried  back  to  camp. 
He  thought  he  ought  to  inform  Sweet  or  Bubber  at  once, 
but  they  were  asleep ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  detailed  the 
story  to  Asa,  the  witless  snake-charmer  himself  appeared 
unhurt. 

"  Lem-me  tell  you  one  thing,"  commented  Asa,  M'ith  a 
serious  face,  as  soon  as  Charley  had  made  him  acquainted 
with  the  facts  :  "you  let  dat  Billy  hoe  his  own  row.  Play 
wid  'im  roun'  de  camp  much  ez  you  like,  but  don't  you  go 
foolin'  long  atter  him  roun'  dese  woods.  He  ain't  got  good 
sense,  an'  he  '11  git  you  inter  trouble  sho  's  you  born." 

"  Look  yuh,  Billy,"  he  asked,  as  the  latter  approached 
and  took  his  place  at  Charley's  side,  "  ain't  you  got  no  bet- 
ter sense  'n  ter  prodjick  wid  a  rattlesnake  dat-a  way  ?  " 


IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


"  What  made  you  tell  ? "  asked  Billy,  reproachfully,  of 
Charley. 

"  Dat  snake  goiii'  to  bite  you  au'  kill  you  ef  you  don't 
mind,"  continued  Asa,  severely. 

"Don't  you  fret,"  said  Billy,  giggling  immoderately. 
"  Son  knows  me." 

"When  they  were  all  tellin'  stories  round  the  fire  this 
mornin',  why  did  n't  you  tell  one,  too,  Asa  ? "  asked  Charley, 
when  the  subject  of  Billy's  snake  had  been  dropped. 

"  Nobody  did  n't  ax  me,"  replied  Asa,  with  a  guffaw.  "  I 
could  'a'  tole  'em  'bout  how  a  'oman  put  bad  mouf  on  me 
an'  kunjud  me  one  time,  but  dey  didn't  ax  me." 

"  Well,  you  can  tell  us  now,  can't  you  ? " 

The  negro  was  by  this  time  beginning  his  preparations 
for  dinner.  He  now  sat  on  the  grass  near  Charley,  rapidly 
removing  the  feathers  from  a  wild  turkey  which  one  of  the 
men  had  shot  on  the  previous  day. 

"  I  ain't  got  time  nohow,"  he  replied  ;  "but  ef  I  was  to 
tell  you  any  tale  I  ought  to  tell  you  dat  'n  Unker  Tony  use 
ter  tell  de  chillun  'bout  de  tuckey-gobbler  an'  de  rattle- 
snake, De  way  Billy  been  foolin'  wid  dat  snake  dis  mornin' 
put  me  in  mind  o'  Unker  Tony's  tale,  an'  ef  he  don't  look 
out  he  gwine  to  come  out  like  de  tuckey  did,  too." 

"  Oh,  tell  it ;  you  've  got  time,"  urged  Charley,  "  May- 
be it'll  make  Billy  have  more  sense." 

"  'T  ain't  no  great  tale,"  said  Asa,  by  way  of  introduction, 

■  having  been  induced  to  begin.     "  Hit 's  des  a  tale  to  tell 

bigity  chillun  when  dey  git  too  mannish.    Unker  Tony  say 

one  time,  way  back  yonder,  when  de  tuckey  use  ter  be  de 

mose  proudes'  bird  in  de  woods,  a  ole  tuckey-gobbler  'uz 


CHARLEY  IS  INTRODUCED   TO  ''SON."  59 

comiii'  long,  an'  fuss  ting  he  know  he  run  up  on  a  rattle- 
snake. De  tuckey  strut  long  so  bigity,  wid  he  tail  spread 
out  so  fine  an'  he  head  reared  up  so  high,  he  did  n't  hardly 
see  de  rattlesnake,  an'  look  like  he  gwine  walk  straight 
on  over  him. 

"  Eattlesnake  shake  lie  rattle  —  z-z-z-z-z-z  ! — an'  he  say 
'Don't  yer  walk  on  me;  don't  yer  walk  on  me  dis 
morn  in' ! ' 

"  Tuckey-gobbler  look  down  at  'im  out  de  cawner  he  eye, 
an'  he  say :  '  Eh  ?  Was  you  speakin'  to  me  ? '  Den  he 
look  hard  at  de  rattlesnake  an'  mek  out  like  he  so  little  he 
don't  know  'im,  an'  den  he  turn  up  he  nose  an'  laugh  to 
hisself  an'  come  a-walkin'  right  on. 

"  Kattlesnake  bristle  up  an'  .squirm  roun' ;  he  say, 
*  Don't  you  walk  on  me.  Bet'ner  walk  on  me ;  I  tell  you 
in  time  —  z-z-z-z-z-z-z  ! ' 

"Tuckey-gobbler  say,  'Humph!  ef  sich  a  triflin'  lil 
wurrum  like  you  so  partic'lar,  I  tink  you  better  git  out  de 
road.' 

"  Eattlesnake  shake  he  tail  wuss.  He  say,  'You  mus' 
be  crazy,  enty  ?  I  '11  have  you  to  understan'  I  don't  git 
out  de  road  fer  nobody,  let  'lone  fer  sich  a  stuck-up  fool  ez 
you  is ! ' 

"  Ole  tuckey-gobbler  rear  back  an'  say,  '  Who  is  you,  I 
like  to  know,  to  be  talkin'  yuh  so  bigity  ?  You  little  'sig- 
nificant bug !  Is  you  got  de  enshoance  to  stan'  dere  an' 
sass  me  ?  You  don't  know  me,  does  you  ?  You  dunner  no 
better  'n  to  lay  under  dat  bush  an'  shake  yo'  tail  at  me  ?  — 
when  —  vnj  —  gran'daddy  —  svxdloiccd  —  a  allergatek  !  * 

"  De  ole  tuckey  stretch  hisself  up  powerful  big  an'  look 


60  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

like  he  believe  he  could  mose  swallow  a  elephant.  An'  de 
rattlesnake  bust  out  in  a  big  laugh,  an'  he  up  'n  say,  — 

" '  Dass  you,  is  it  ?  I  said  to  merself  you  was  a  fool 
when  I  fust  seen  you  comin'.'  An'  den  he  laugh  fitten  to 
bust. 

"  Ole  tuckey-gobbler  git  fightin'  mad,  you  see  him  so,  an' 
he  say,  '  Shut  up  dat !  I  '11  make  you  laugh  on  t'  other 
side  yo'  mouf  turreckly.  I  aim  to  make  you  eat  dem  words 
'fo'  I  quit,'  an'  den  he  wheeled  in  an'  everlas'nly  oust  de 
rattlesnake  out. 

"  Eattlesuake  slmke  he  tail  fast  ez  lightnin'  —  z-z-z-z- 
z-z-z !  He  say ;  '  I  dare  you  to  walk  on  me  !  I  des  dare 
yer  —  double  dog  dare  yer  —  to  walk  on  me !  * 

"  An',  would  you  b'lieve  it,  de  ole  tuckey  so  mad  he  des 
up  'n  pounced  right  on  de  rattlesnake  an'  tried  to  pop  he 
spurs  in  him ;  but  de  rattlesnake  done  bit  him  —  dat 
quick  !  [Asa  snapped  his  fingers  loudly.]  An'  little  more, 
an'  dat  bigity  tuckey-gobbler  done  drap  down  dead." 

"  Now  you  see  that,  Billy,"  exclaimed  Charley,  and  Asa 
shook  his  head  in  solemn  warning. 

But  Billy  did  not  apj)ear  to  ■  be  in  the  least  disturbed, 
responding  with  his  usual  giggle. 

"  Oh,  but  you  see,  that  was  n't  son,"  he  said  argumenta- 
tively ;  "  that  was  son's  cousin,  I  reckon.  Son  won't  bite 
me.     No-sir-ree ! " 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

A   BREAK   FOR   FREEDOM. 

AFTER  supper  that  evening,  as  the  men  told  yarns  and 
joked  about  the  camp-fire,  Billy  seemed  unusually 
wide  awake,  and  repeated  nursery  rhymes  and  rigmaroles 
by  the  dozen. 

Taking  Charley's  hand  in  his,  he  touched  the  fingers  one 
after  another,  repeating,  "  Little  man  —  ring  man  —  long 
man  —  lick  pot  —  thumpkin." 

Then,  tweaking  the  toes  of  his  own  bare  feet,  he  merrily 
recited,  — 

"  This  little  pig  wants  some  corn  ; 
This  one  says,  '  Where  yoii  goin'  to  git  it  ? ' 
This  one  says,  '  In  master's  barn  ; ' 
This  one  says  he 's  goin'  to  tell  ;  ^   , 

This  one  says,  '  Queak  !  — queak  !  — 
Can't  git  over  the  door-sill  ! '  " 

Touching  first  Charley's  index  finger  and  then  his  own 
as  each  word  was  uttered,  he  said,  "  William  Ma-trimble- 
toe ;  he 's  a  good  fisherman ;  catches  hens,  puts  'em  in 
pens ;  some  lays  eggs,  some  lays  none  ;  wire,  brier,  limber 
lock  ;  sets  and  sits  till  twelve  o'clock ;  0-U-T  spells  '  out ' 
—  go!" 

This  suggested  a  game  of  hide-and-seek,  and  Charley 
was  coaxed  into  playing.     Before  long  Asa  joined,  and 


62  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

tlieu  Joe  was  drawn  iuto  the  game.  It  was  a  bright  moon- 
lit night,  and  no  one  seemed  sleepy.  The  deserters  stopped 
telling  their  yarns,  and  watched  tlie  game.  The  laughter 
of  the  boys  and  the  negro  aflected  them  pleasantly. 

The  fun  was  contagious.  Five  minutes  later  every  oc- 
cupant of  the  island  was  engaged  in  the  sport.  One  by 
one  the  deserters  yielded  to  the  fascination  of  it,  and  joined 
in  the  game,  surprised  at  themselves  and  at  each  other, 
but  excusing  such  levity  with  the  laughing  remark, 
"  Anythiug  for  a  little  fun  !  " 

"Ten  —  ten  —  double  ten  —  forty-five  —  fifteen  hun- 
dred —  are  you  all  hid  ?  Are  all  my  sheep  hid  ? "  shouted 
Billy ;  and  such  whoo})iug  and  running  and  hiding  in  far 
dark  recesses  as  followed  ! 

"  Now  's  de  time  ! "  whispered  Asa,  when  the  fun  was 
at  its  height,  and  he  and  Joe  and  Charley  had  run  off  and 
squatted  together  behind  the  same  clump  of  bushes. 
"  Now  's  de  time  for  us  to  give  'em  de  slip  an'  git  away." 

Tlie  boys  listened  eagerly  as  he  explained  the  plan 
which  he  had  formed  during  the  past  few  minutes.  He 
proposed  that  as  soon  as  the  players  scattered  to  hide  the 
next  time,  he  should  run  off  to  the  boat-landing,  step  into 
the  water,  and  drag  each  of  the  three  boats  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  off  into  the  submerged  forest,  where  they  could 
not  be  found  readily.  The  deserters  would  thus  be  led  to 
believe  that  the  boys  and  the  negro  had  escaped  to  the 
prairie,  taking  all  the  boats  with  them. 

While  he  was  hiding  the  boats,  the  boys  should  continue 
the  game,  showing  themselves  conspicuously,  in  order  that 
the  absence  of  Asa,  if  observed,  might  not  excite  suspicion. 


A    BREAK  FOR    FREEDOM. 


The  negro  had  outlined  his  plan  thus  far,  when  the 
course  of  the  game  compelled  the  conspirators  to  separate 
and  return  to  headquarters.  When  the  rush  for  cover  was 
again  made,  the  boys  saw  Asa  dart  away  in  the  direction 
of  the  boats,  and  were  well  pleased  to  observe  that  his 
absence  attracted  no  attention.  They  were  then  careful 
to  keep  suspicion  lulled  by  playing  with  all  their  might. 
The  cunning  negro  succeeded  in  secreting  the  boats  as 
proposed,  and  in  a  very  short  time  turned  up  again,  none 
but  the  boys  observing  that  his  ragged  trousers  were  wet 
to  the  knees. 

Joe  and  Charley  understood  that  the  first  rush  for  cover 
after  Asa's  return  was  the  time  to  escape.  When  they 
saw  him  again  dart  away  along  the  path  into  the  swamp- 
cane,  they  followed  fast  with  throbbing  hearts,  arriving  at 
the  boat-landing  by  the  time  the  last  one  of  the  scattering 
men  was  safely  hidden. 

There  Charley  was  given  his  hatchet,  and  Joe  his  gun. 
Asa  put  a  rifle  over  his  own  shoulder  and  snatched  up  a 
bucket  of  eatables,  —  all  of  which  he  had  cleverly  con- 
veyed tliither  since  the  commencement  of  the  game.  Asa 
stepped  into  the  water,  and  bade  the  boys  follow. 

"  We  got  to  go  in  dis  water  to  fool  dem  dogs,"  he 
whispered. 

He  led  the  boys  about  fifty  feet  from  the  shore  along 
the  open  boat-road,  then  turned  to  the  right  into  the  thick 
growth,  and  skirted  the  island  for  several  hundred  yards 
before  landing  again.  It  was  no  trifling  undertaking.  The 
water  was  in  many  places  over  their  knees,  and  was  thick 
with  drift  and  moss ;  the  bottom  was  often  muddy,  and  a. 


64  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

dense  swamp  undergrowth  forced  them  to  a  tortuous  route. 
Besides,  little  light  descended  from  the  moon  among  those 
crowding  trees.  Poor  Charley  found  it  difficult  to  keep 
up. 

"  Ten  —  ten  —  double  ten  !  "  they  heard  Billy  shouting 
faintly  as  they  lauded,  and  knew  that  as  yet  no  one  ob- 
served their  absence. 

Asa  had  not  dared  to  risk  flight  across  the  prairie  with- 
out Billy  to  carry  the  third  and  last  boat.  Even  two  boats 
would  have  been  more  tlian  they  could  move  in  rapidly 
enough  to  escape  pursuit  and  capture. 

He  had,  therefore,  decided  to  secrete  the  boats,  putting 
the  deserters  on  the  wrong  scent  and  causing  delay.  After 
covering  their  trail  in  tlie  water,  Asa  meant  to  strike  across 
the  island  and  enter  the  swamp  at  the  opposite  end.  He 
knew  there  was  a  way  out  of  the  Okefenokee  through  a 
jungle  in  that  direction,  which  could  be  followed  on  foot, 
though  he  had  never  been  over  it. 

"  Whose  rifle  is  that,  Asa  ? "  asked  Joe,  as  they  started 
forward  in  single  file. 

"  Bubber's,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  low  laugh ;  "  I  aim 
to  take  dis  rifle  to  yo'  pa  ter  pay  'im  fer  my  rent,  —  fer  de 
five  months  I  been  workin'  fer  Bubber." 

"  He  won't  have  it,"  replied  Joe,  "  and  you  ought  not  to 
have  taken  it." 

"  Ef  he  don'  want  it,  den  hit 's  mine." 

Joe  laughed  in  spite  of  himself,  and  they  all  halted  to 
listen  as  a  shout  reached  them  from  the  camp.  Distinctly 
they  heard  the  names  of  Joe  and  Asa  called,  and  knew 
that  they  were  missed.     They  now  went  forward  faster 


A   BREAK  FOR   FREEDOM.  65 

than  before.  Five  minutes  later  another  shout  reached 
them ;  and  after  a  brief  silence  several  sharp  short  yelps 
from  the  dogs  were  heard. 

"  They  have  found  that  the  boats  are  gone,  and  have 
called  out  the  dogs,"  said  Joe. 

Asa  leaped  forward  at  the  sound,  and  poor  Charley  was 
hard  pressed  to  keep  up  after  that.  The  darkness  was 
bewildering  until  they  emerged  from  the  "  hammock  "  and 
started  along  the  open  pine  ridge  which  was  the  backbone 
of  the  island.  Here,  however,  the  moonlight  filtered 
through  the  scattering  tops  of  the  pines,  and  they  could 
distinguish  prominent  objects  fifty  feet  away. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  very  difficult  to  make  rapid  headway, 
owing  to  the  frequent  blackjack  thickets,  the  tall  huckle- 
berry and  gallberry  bushes  and  the  crowding  clumps  of 
fan-palmetto  which  barred  the  way.  There  was  a  slight 
trail  leading  down  the  ridge,  as  they  knew ;  but  no  time 
could  be  lost  in  searching  for  it  now,  and  they  were  obliged 
to  pick  their  way  as  best  they  could. 

The  island  was  about  four  miles  long,  and  fully  an  hour 
and  a  half  was  consumed  in  covering  the  distance.  De- 
scending into  the  dense  growth  of  the  "hammock"  which 
joined  it  with  the  swamp  at  the  farther  end,  they  halted 
to  listen.  All  was  deathly  still,  at  least  in  the  direction 
of  the  deserters'  camp ;  but  the  stillness  of  the  dark, 
slumbering  swamp  in  their  front  was  suddenly  broken  by 
the  dismal  and  unearthly  hoot  of  an  owl. 

Joe  thought  they  ought  to  push  forward  and  make  good 
their  escape  into  the  swamp  before  daybreak;  but  Asa's 
courage  now  failed  him,  and  he  objected.     He  said  it  was 

5 


66  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

dangerous  to  go  on,  as  indeed  it  was ;  they  might  sink  into 
the  bog  over  their  heads,  or  they  might  be  set  upon  by  a 
panther.  Besides,  there  was  no  telling  what  sort  of  reptile 
they  might  stumble  upon  in  the  darkness.  Joe  was  by 
no  means  free  from  fear  himself;  but  he  thought  it  tlie 
part  of  prudence  as  well  as  of  manliness  to  advise  going 
forward. 

"  Dem  men  won't  start  to  hunt  us  'fo'  daylight,"  said 
Asa,  confidently.  "  It 's  midnight  now.  Dey  t'ink  we 
gone  on  de  prairie  wid  all  de  boats,  an'  I  know  mighty  well 
dey  ain't  gwine  start  wadin'  atter  us  till  mawnin'." 

They  stood  a  moment  in  silence.  Suddenly  from  the 
dark  depths  of  the  swamp  on  their  front  a  strange  cry  was 
borne  to  them,  —  a  cry  or  bark  or  croak,  they  could  not  tell 
what. 

"  That  sounds  like  a  bear,"  whispered  Joe. 

"  Must  be  a  jmnt'er,"  whispered  Asa. 

The  cry  was  lieard  again,  more  mysterious,  weird,  and 
startling  than  before.  Facing  about,  they  retreated  hur- 
riedly up  tlie  slope  and  into  the  open  pine  woods,  where 
the  moonlight  outlined  neighboring  objects. 

Asa,  Ijadly  frightened,  wanted  to  build  a  fire,  but  Joe 
would  not  consent  to  such  an  imprudence,  and  finally  it 
was  agreed  that  they  sit  down  with  their  backs  to  a  large 
pine  and  watch  until  daylight. 

Joe  and  Asa  sat  thus,  upright  and  alert,  their  guns  in 
readiness,  for  a  long  while.  Charley  lay  down  between 
them,  and  fell  asleep.  All  was  now  quiet,  and  gradually 
they  recovered  from  their  fright. 

Gradually  also  a  drowsiness  seized  them.      Asa  rested 


A    BREAK  FOR   FREEDOM.  67 

his  gun  across  his  lap,  dropped  his  head  on  his  breast,  and 
soon  began  to  snore.  Joe  roused  him  several  times,  only 
to  see  him  lapse  into  insensibility  a  few  moments  later. 
The  boy  watched  more  than  an  hour  longer,  and  then  he 
also  succumbed.  Later,  as  lie  roused  up  to  a  state  of  semi- 
consciousness and  opened  his  eyes,  he  saw  that  the  moon 
was  low,  and  that  apparently  all  was  welh  However,  as 
he  drifted  back  toward  dreamland  he  thought  he  heard  a 
short,  sharp  yelp  or  two  from  dogs  in  the  distance,  but  was 
too  much  enchained  by  drowsiness  to  heed. 

The  dogs  liad  started  some  trail,  no  doubt,  —  that  of  a 
rabbit,  perhaps  ;  but  what  could  it  matter  to  the  three 
sleepers  under  the  pine  ? 

When  Joe  again  awoke  it  was  daylight,  and  the  dogs 
were  leaping  about  him  and  barking.  Several  men  were 
at  hand,  too ;  and  the  one  nearest,  who  looked  down  at 
the  sleepers  with  an  ugly  grin,  was  Sweet  Jackson.  The 
sound  of  blows  then  drew  his  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Bubber  Hardy,  close  by,  was  kicking  Asa  in  order  to  awake 
him. 

They  were  caught !  What  else  could  they  have  ex- 
pected ?  The  events  of  the  night  leaped  into  view  in  the 
boy's  memory,  and  he  was  overcome  with  sorrow  and 
shame.     "  If  we  had  not  been  such  cowards  !  "  he  thought. 

Joe  rose  to  his  feet.  Charley  was  crying,  and  Asa  was 
looking  around  stuj)idly.  Sweet  laughed  in  derision  as  he 
looked  at  them,  and  poor  Joe  thought  that  even  this  was 
deserved.  After  some  severe  kicking  and  cuffing,  from 
which  Joe  and  Charley  turned  away  their  indignant  eyes, 
Asa  was  allowed  to  rise. 


68  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  You  thought  you  'd  run  off  with  them  boys,  aud  steal 
my  gun  in  the  bargain,  did  you  ? "  shouted  Bubber,  angrily. 
"1 11  make  you  sick  of  it  'fore  I  quit." 

The  boys  themselves  were  seized  roughly,  and  all  were 
marched  back  to  camp.  Asa  was  ordered  to  cook  breakfast, 
and  the  men  immediately  set  about  building  a  prison,  —  a 
sort  of  pen  of  heavy  saplings,  with  slanting  poles  and  a  pal- 
metto thatch  for  the  roof.  It  was  given  no  window  and 
only  a  small  aperture  for  a  door.  At  night  Asa  was  shut 
up  in  this  pen,  but  Joe  and  Charley  slept  in  the  loft  with 
Bubber  as  formerly. 

The  boys  found  themselves  under  constant  watch  after 
that,  and  their  freedom  of  coming  and  going  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  camp  was  curtailed.  Still  it  was  not  im- 
possible for  them  to  get  a  private  word  with  Asa  while  he 
was  doing  his  work  ;  and  one  day  some  three  weeks  later 
Joe  said  to  him,  — 

"  If  we  could  catch  a  live  duck,  maybe  we  could  send  a 
note  to  father." 

"  Dat  duck  would  n't  go  to  yo'  pa,"  replied  Asa,  stolidl}'-. 

"Well,  I  heard  Sister  Marian  and  Captain  Marshall 
talking  about  a  book  they  had  read,"  continued  Joe,  "  and 
they  said  a  lady  and  a  man  she  did  n't  like  were  cast 
away  on  an  uninhabited  island  in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and 
after  a  while  the  lady  began  to  love  the  man  because  he 
was  so  kind,  and  did  so  many  things  for  her.  And  one  of 
the  things  he  did  was  to  go  out  before  daylight  and  wade 
into  a  pond  where  ducks  came  very  early  in  the  morning  ; 
and  he  would  squat  down  in  the  grass  and  water  up  to  his 
neck  (the  grass  hid  his  head),  and  when  the  ducks  swam 


A   BREAK  FOR   FREEDOM.  69 

close  up,  he  would  reach  under  and  grab  them  by  the  foot. 
And  he  would  write  letters,  telling  how  the  lady  was  ship- 
wrecked on  that  island,  and  tie  them  to  the  ducks  and  turn 
them  loose." 

"  An'  did  dera  ducks  carry  de  letters  to  the  right  place  ? " 
asked  Asa. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  after  a  while  a  ship  came.  I  'd 
like  to  try  it,  anyhow." 

"  We  can't  git  no  ducks,"  said  Asa  ;  "  but  if  you  write 
de  letter,  I  '11  git  you  a  live  pa'tridge." 

The  deserters  had  set  traps  for  partridges  at  several 
different  points  on  the  island,  and  had  usually  a  supply  of 
birds  alive  in  a  pen  near  the  camp,  with  which  to  vary 
their  diet.  The  flight  of  a  partridge  seemed  to  promise 
less  than  that  of  almost  any  bird  they  could  think  of ;  but 
it  was  the  only  chance,  and  Joe  accepted  the  suggestion. 

So  when  Asa  went  to  the  bird-pen  the  same  day  and 
wrung  the  necks  of  a  dozen  partridges,  he  brought  back 
with  him  a  live  one  also,  and  turned  it  over  to  Joe  with- 
out attracting  attention. 

Joe,  having  written  the  letter,  tied  it  securely  beneath 
the  bird's  wing.     It  ran  :  — 

Dear  Father,  —  Charley  and  I  got  lost  in  the  Okefenokee, 
and  we  carae  to  this  island  where  the  deserters  stay.  They 
keep  us  prisoners,  for  they  are  afraid  we  will  tell  the  soldiers 
where  they  are, 

Asa  is  here  too.  They  stole  him.  "We  tried  to  escape  two 
or  three  times,  but  it 's  no  use. 

"When  you  come  after  us  don't  forget  this,  —  that  to  the  north 
of  this  island  there  is  a  great  wide  marsh,  I  don't  know  how 


70  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

many  miles  across,  and  beyond  it,  they  say,  is  a  trail  that  goes  to 
Trader's  Hill.     Come  quick. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Joseph  Merim^e. 

P.  S.  —  Whoever  finds  this,  please  take  it  or  send  it  riglit 
away  to  Mr.  Roger  Merimee,  Trader's  Hill,  Charlton  County, 
Georgia. 

The  letter  was  written  on  a  page  torn  from  the  boy's 
notebook.  Fastening  it  beneath  the  bird's  wing,  and  tying 
about  its  neck  a  strip  from  his  handkerchief  to  attract 
attention,  Joe  pitclied  the  partridge  upward  with  all  his 
might,  hoping  thus  to  frighten  it  into  a  long  flight  across 
tlie  prairie.  He  knew  that  if  it  alighted  on  the  island  the 
chances  of  its  being  shot  or  caught  by  a  friend  would  be 
altogether  lost. 

The  bird  soared  high,  plunged,  wheeled  at  two  hundred 
yards'  distance,  rose  again  as  if  newly  alarmed,  then  quickly 
dropped  into  the  island  jungle.  Joe  sat  down  and  buried 
his  head  in  his  hands.  For  the  moment  all  his  hopes 
were  over. 

"  "VVliat  you  let  that  bird  go  for,  you  triflin'  nigger  ?  " 
cried  one  of  the  deserters  on  watch. 

"  Dass  a  mighty  smart  bird.  He  ain't  want  to  lose  his 
fedders,"  said  Asa,  grinning ;  for  he  knew  the  loss  of  one 
partridge  was  nothing  to  the  deserters. 

"  Don't  you  cry,  Mas'  Joe,"  he  whispered,  bending  over 
the  boy;  "you  done  yer  bes'.  Mebby  we  find  some  other 
way." 

But  Joe's  hopes  had  been  so  high  that  he  could  not  soon 
control  his  silent  tears. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

JOE  AND  CHARLEY  COVER  THEMSELVES  WITH  GLORY. 

BY  this  time  the  deserters  had  begun  to  relax  their  vigi- 
hiuce ;  and  the  two  boys  were  allowed  to  walk  about 
tlie  neighborhood  of  the  camp  with  almost  their  former 
freedom. 

"  They  can't  git  away  without  Asa's  help  nohow,"  Bub- 
ber  Hardy  more  than  once  remarked  to  his  associates ; 
"  and  as  long  as  we  keep  our  eye  on  the  nigger  we  're  all 
right.  No  use  hemmin'  the  boys  in  too  close.  It 's  hard 
on  them,  powerful  hard ;  and  I,  for  one,  don't  like  to  see 
'em  suffer.  You  kin  see  all  the  time  they  're  bad  off  with 
homesickness ;  and  they  air  two  as  smart  and  honor'ble 
and  well-behaved  boys  as  I  ever  laid  eyes  on." 

Such  remarks,  delivered  now  and  then  by  the  "  cock  of 
the  walk,"  produced  a  perceptible  effect  on  every  member 
of  the  camp,  except  perhaps  Sweet  Jackson ;  and  the  boys 
soon  discovered  that  they  could  go  about  as  they  pleased 
withont  molestation. 

"  Can't  you  think  of  some  other  plan  for  us  to  get  away, 
Asa  ?  "  asked  Joe,  a  day  or  two  after  they  had  let  fly  the 
partridge. 

The  two  bovs  stood  looking  on  while  the  negro  cooked 
dinner.     The  deserters  were  all  out  of  earshot. 


IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


"  I  reckon  der  ain't  but  one  way,"  replied  Asa,  punching 
the  fire  slowly  and  meditatively,  "  an'  dat  's  fer  you  boys 
to  keep  'wake  tell  late  some  night,  den  slip  down  out  de 
loft  widout  wakin'  up  any  dem  mens  an'  let  me  out  dat 
pen.  Den  we  kin  git  in  one  dem  boats,  atter  we  done  sot 
fire  to  de  yuther  two,  an'  —  " 

"  Set  fire  to  the  other  two  ? "  exclaimed  Joe. 

"  Pass  hit ;  dass  de  ve'y  thing  to  do.  Den  dem  mens  '11 
sho'  sweat  'fo'  dey  cotch  us  agin." 

"  But  that  would  leave  them  prisoners  on  the  island," 
objected  Joe. 

"  And  they  might  starve,"  said  Charley. 

"  Shoo  ! "  cried  Asa,  with  a  laugh  of  absolute  indifference. 
"  Dey  mout  ez  well  be  prisoners  ez  for  us  to  be  prison- 
ers. Des  be  turn  an'  turn  about.  You  said  yo'self  dey 
'zerve  to  be  shot  fer  desertin'  fum  de  army,  —  why  can't 
dey  starve,  den,  ef  dey  ain't  got  sense  enough  to  git  away 
from  yuh  widout  de  boats.  Let  'em  root-hog-or-die,  I 
say." 

"  Oh,  but  that  would  be  mean,"  said  Joe,  shaking  his 
head.     "  I  would  n't  be  willing  to  do  that." 

"  Wait  tell  dey  kick  you  an'  cuff  you  roun'  lak  dey  done 
me,  an'  you  'd  be  willin'  to  burn  dey  house  down,  let  'lone 
dey  boats." 

"  No,  I  would  n't." 

"  Well,  den,  we  kin  leave  de  boats,  —  des  hide  'em  lak 
we  done  t'other  time." 

*'  Oh,  yes,  that 's  what  we  can  do,"  agreed  Joe. 

"  An'  ef  we  git  started  by  midnight  we  be  out  dey  reach 
'fu'  mornin'.     Dey  never  kin  ketch  us." 


JOE  AND   CHARLEY.  75 

It  was  suggested  and  agreed  ou  that  the  attempt  be 
made  that  uight.  The  boys  were  warned  by  the  negro  to 
remain  awake,  and  not  stir  from  their  places  until  they 
had  listened  for  a  long  while  to  the  snoring  of  the  desert- 
ers, and  were  absolutely  sure  that  they  were  all  sound 
asleep.  Then  they  should  steal  guardedly  along  the  wall 
until  opposite  the  door  in  the  floor. 

"  Of  all  you  boys  do,  don't  you  step  on  none  dem  mens 
foots  dere  in  de  dark,"  warned  Asa,  "  fer  ef  you  do  de 
cake's  all  dough." 

He  added  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  attempt  to  let  the 
ladder  down  ;  they  had  better  jump  lightly  to  the  ground 
instead, 

"  Oh,  we  '11  just  swing  down  by  our  hands  and  drop  on 
our  feet,"  said  Joe.     "  It's  not  high." 

Asa  said  that  if  for  any  reason  they  failed  to  get  off  in 
the  boats,  they  could  run  down  to  the  other  end  of  the 
island  as  before,  and  start  off  afoot  on  the  jungle  trail  of 
which  he  had  heard  the  deserters  speak.  The  trouble  was 
that  he  was  not  sure  just  where  to  find  it. 

Joe  proposed  that  he  and  Charley  spend  the  afternoon 
looking  for  it ;  and  as  soon  as  they  had  eaten  their  dinner, 
and  the  deserters  had  scattered,  he  sauntered  away,  gun 
in  hand,  followed  after  a  few  minutes  by  Charley.  If  this 
move  was  ol)served,  it  excited  no  apprehension,  and  the 
boys  got  off  uuchalleuged. 

After  walking  about  two  miles  down  the  backbone  of 
the  island,  the  boys  concluded  to  cut  across  to  the  swamp 
on  the  right,  and  begin  looking  for  the  jungle  trail.  Their 
plan  was  to  follow  as  nearly  as  possible  the  line  of  demarc- 


74  IX   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

ation  between  the  swamp  and  the  high  ground,  thus  encir- 
cling the  island  in  the  course  of  time,  and  necessarily 
crossing  the  trail.  The  slight  trail  which  led  from  the 
camp  down  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  island  was  there 
lost,  before  it  entered  the  swamp,  as  they  liad  ascertained 
on  a  previous  excursion,  and  it  was  useless  to  follow  it  a 
second  time.  Their  present  plan,  of  following  the  rim  of 
the  island,  seemed  the  only  one  involving  the  thorough 
search  which  they  wished  to  make. 

The  path  chosen  was  difficult  to  follow.  Often  a  detour 
higher  up  on  the  island,  or  deeper  into  the  swamp,  was 
necessary  to  avoid  bogs,  marshes,  impregnable  clumps  of 
fan-palmettos,  and  tangled  masses  of  brambles.  And  often 
the  way  was  difficult  enough  by  reason  of  the  aged  fallen 
logs  thrown  criss-cross,  and  piled  high  by  wind  storms,  and 
by  the  crowding  swamp  undergrowth,  and  the  thickly 
standing  trees  themselves.  Once  they  penetrated  a  cane- 
brake  through  which  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  go 
but  for  passages  evidently  made  by  wild  animals ;  for  the 
tall  strong  reeds,  which  stood  as  straight  as  arrows,  were 
for  the  most  part  hardly  three  inches  apart. 

Even  along  the  borders  of  the  comparatively  open  pine 
land  which  formed  the  island,  they  were  most  forcibly 
reminded  of  what  a  wild,  pathless  wilderness  the  great 
Okefenokee  really  was. 

Two  or  three  times  they  halted  and  carefully  examined 
faint  suggestions  of  a  trail,  soon  pushing  forward  again 
unsatisfied.  They  had  passed  the  extremity  of  the  island, 
and  were  returning  up  the  left-hand  side,  in  great  fear  lest 
their  efforts  should  be  altogether  fruitless,  when  they  at 


JOE  AND   CHARLEY.  75 

last  came  upon  what  Joe  felt  conviuced  was  the  object  of 
their  search. 

Having  followed  the  trail  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
into  the  jungle,  they  retraced  their  steps  to  higher  ground. 
It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon  and  time  they  were  turn- 
ing their  faces  toward  camp ;  but  they  had  begun  to  feel 
weary  after  tlie  long  and  rough  tramp,  and  Charley  begged 
that  they  might  stop  and  rest.  So  they  lay  down  on  the 
soft  billowy  wire-grass  in  a  high  and  dry  spot,  hemmed  in 
by  tall  clumps  of  palmettos. 

"  Oh,  is  n't  this  nice  ! "  exclaimed  Charley,  after  a  sigh 
of  great  satisfaction. 

Joe  was  about  to  utter  a  response,  when  all  at  once  they 
heard  a  rustle  in  tlie  grass  to  the  left,  and  the  next 
moment  the  hearts  of  both  boys  began  to  beat  with  strong 
excitement,  as  tlieir  eyes  fell  upon  a  large  wild-cat  crouched 
within  a  short  distance  of  them. 

Involuntarily  they  sprang  to  their  feet,  whereupon  the 
cat's  hair  stood  on  end,  its  eyes  flashed  with  rage,  and  it 
displayed  its  glistening  teeth,  uttering  a  low  guttural 
growl.  The  animal,  which  they  must  have  surprised  close 
to  its  lair,  as  otherwise  it  would  likely  have  made  off  with- 
out show  of  fight  unless  attacked  first,  was  a  powerful  one, 
some  three  feet  in  length,  its  hair  being  of  a  dark  brown- 
ish gray,  mottled  with  black. 

Joe  snatched  up  his  gun,  took  hurried  aim,  and  fired. 
But  he  was  trembling  with  excitement ;  and  it  was  no 
wonder  that  the  load  of  buck-sliot  buried  itself  in  tlie  grass 
a  foot  or  more  wide  of  its  mark. 

There  was  no  time  to  reload,  for  a  moment  later   the 


7.V   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 


enraged  wild-cat  leaped  througli  the  air,  lauding  full  upon 
the  boy  ere  he  could  spring  aside.  The  shock  carried 
him  to  his  knees,  the  now  useless  gun  slipping  from  his 
grasp.  As  the  cat  came  down,  it  cruelly  clawed  the  boy's 
left  shoulder  and  the  left  side  of  his  head,  snarling  furiously 
and  blowing  its  hot  breath  into  his  face.  Joe  beheld  its 
fiery  eyes  only  a  few  inches  from  liis  own,  and  his  hands 
flew  to  its  throat. 

Exerting  all  his  strength,  he  lield  the  cat  off,  but  could 
not  prevent  his  clothes  from  being  torn  to  shreds  by  its 
strong  white  claws,  and  painful  wounds  being  inflicted 
upon  his  arms  and  body. 

For  a  few  moments  Charley  stood  paralyzed  with  fright, 
then  he  caught  the  cat  by  the  tail  and  strove  frantically 
to  pull  it  off  his  brother.  Failing  utterly  in  the  attempt, 
he  thought  of  his  pocket-knife,  and  getting  it  out  as 
quickly  as  possible,  stabbed  the  creature  twice  in  the 
back.  Then,  with  a  maddened  snarl,  the  cat  let  go  its 
hold  on  Joe,  and  turned  upon  Joe's  rescuer. 

"  Help  !  help  me,  Joe  ! "  cried  Charley,   terrified. 

"  Grab  him  by  the  throat  I "  shouted  the  elder  boy,  stag- 
gering to  his  feet,  half  blinded  by  the  blood  which  covered 
his  face. 

Joe's  first  thought  was  to  seize  his  gun ;  but  he  saw  at 
once  that  he  could  not  shoot  without  killing  his  brother, 
and  he  leaped  forward  empty-handed.  Stumbling  over  an 
impediment  and  falling  to  his  hands  and  knees,  he  espied 
the  bloody  pocket-knife  just  dropped  by  Charley.  A 
moment  later  the  wild-cat  was  stabbed  in  the  side ;  then 
again  and  yet  again. 


JOE  AND   CHARLEY.  77 

But  poor  Charley  was  still  exposed  to  the  wounded  ani- 
mal's cruel  claws,  and,  realizing  that  he  must  at  once  be 
freed,  Joe  seized  the  cat's  left  fore-leg  and  pulled  with  all 
his  might. 

The  snarling  beast  was  thus  partly  drawn  away  from 
its  victim ;  and  Charley's  hands,  which  had  gripped  its 
throat,  now  fell  to  struggling  with  its  right  fore-leg,  the 
claws  of  which  were  sunk  through  his  clothing  and  tearing 

o  o  o 

the  flesh  of  his  shoulder. 

Then  it  was  that  Joe  plunged  the  knife  to  the  hilt  in  the 
animal's  throat.  It  was  all  over  after  tliat.  Both  the 
windpipe  and  the  jugular  vein  were  probably  cut,  for  in 
a  few  moments  the  cat  ceased  to  struggle. 

The  battle  had  been  won,  but  not  without  its  cost.  Both 
boys  were  bleeding  from  a  number  of  painful,  though  not 
serious,  wounds,  and  their  clothing,  in  places,  was  literally 
torn  to  shreds.  As  soon  as  it  was  all  over,  Charley  sat 
down  in  the  grass  and  burst  out  crying. 

"  I  d-don't  w-want  to  cry,  Joe, '  he  apologized  between 
sobs,  "  but  I  c-can't  help  it." 

"  Never  mind.  You  jus'  cry  as  much  as  you  want  to ; 
don't  be  ashamed,"  said  Joe,  rather  unsteadily,  and  looking 
as  if — but  for  his  weight  of  years  —  he  might  condescend 
to  cry  a  little  himself. 

Having  wiped  the  blood  from  his  face,  Joe  now  proceeded 
to  cut  a  long  green  stick.  He  then  fished  some  twine  out 
of  his  pocket  and  tied  the  wild-cat's  feet  together.  Thrust- 
ing the  stick  between  its  legs,  he  took  one  end  of  it  and 
Charley  the  other,  and  thus  they  returned  in  triumph, 
bearing  their  dearly  bought  prize  between  them. 


78  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Whenever  anything  very  unusual  or  extraordinary  oc- 
curred, Asa  was  in  the  habit  of  remarking,  "  Der  mus'  be  a 
deviation  somewhere;"  and  when,  at  sunset  that  afternoon, 
he  saw  the  two  boys  approaching  the  camp-fire,  all  covered 
with  blood,  and  carrying  a  dead  wild-cat  suspended  from  a 
stick  between  them,  his  favorite  expression  occurred  to  him 
as  most  applicable.  The  black  man's  jaw  dropped  with  as- 
tonishment ;  clearly  there  was  an  extraordinary  "  devia- 
tion" somewhere. 

A  few  leaps,  and  he  was  beside  them ;  a  few  words,  and 
he  knew  the  outline  of  their  story. 

"  Look  yuh,  Joe  !  "  he  cried,  laughing  and  gesticulating 
in  an  ecstasy,  "  you  don'  mean  to  say  you  an'  Charley  kill 
dat  wile-cat  wid  des  yo'  pocket-hnife  !  " 

"  Yes,  we  did,"  declared  Charley,  proudly. 

"  Oh,  go  'way  !  Well,  well,  well,  ef  dat  don't  beat  all ! 
W'y,  you  boys  —  you  two  boys,"  the  negro  cried  gleefully, 
patting  them  on  the  back,  "  I  could  turn  in  an'  des  hug  you 
two  boys ! " 

Hardly  less  enthusiastic  were  the  deserters,  most  of 
whom  had  now  gathered  to  the  €amp.  Some  of  them  ex- 
pressed their  admiration  for  the  youngsters'  pluck  in  no 
mild  terms. 

"  That 's  the  sort  o'  grit  I  like  to  see,  boys,"  said  Bubber 
Hardy,  showing  great  pleasure.  "  Never  mind,  son.  I  'II 
fix  it,"  he  said  kindly  to  Charley,  who  winced  on  being 
patted  on  one  of  his  wounds. 

Bubber  then  carefully  washed  and  dressed  the  wounds  of 
both  boys,  binding  some  up  with  strips  of  cloth  and  salving 
others,  the  rest  of  the  men  standing  and  looking  on.     Even 


JOE  AND   CHARLEY.  79 

Sweet  Jackson  spoke  a  kind  word  to  them,  offering  for  their 
use  a  box  of  salve  which  he  had  made  from  bears'  marrow, 
and  the  stingy  Lofton  produced  a  flask  of  whiskey  and  made 
both  boys  swallow  a  little  of  it,  assuring  them  that  it  would 
lessen  the  pain. 

Everybody  seemed  determined  to  make  heroes  of  them, 
and  Joe  was  so  much  elated  that  he  forgot  the  pain.  If  it 
was  worth  so  much  praise  to  fight  and  conquer  a  wild 
animal,  thought  he,  how  truly  glorious  it  must  be  to  shed 
one's  blood  for  one's  country  ! 


CHAPTER   IX. 

"BREATHES    THERE   THE   MAN,   WITH    SOUL   SO   DEAD?" 

AFTEE  supper  the  men  cougregated  as  usual  round  a 
fire  a  few  paces  from  the  one  over  which  Asa  did  the 
cooking,  and,  lounging  about  on  the  grass  and  smoking, 
they  began  their  nightly  pastime  of  yarn-spinning  and 
jesting.  The  two  boys,  the  heroes  of  the  hour,  were  asked 
to  re-tell  in  detail  the  story  of  their  encounter  with  the 
wild-cat,  and  were  honored,  not  only  with  many  words  of 
praise,  but  by  an  invitation  to  drink  freely  of  the  corn- 
beer,  a  fermented  liquor  of  the  deserters'  own  brewing, 
which  heretofore  had  never  been  offered  them. 

Charley  soon  discovered  greater  attraction  in  the  com- 
pany of  Asa  and  Billy  at  the  other  fire ;  but  Joe  lingered 
among  the  men,  laughing  and  talking  with  almost  the 
freedom  of  one  of  tliem,  though  drinking  only  in  modera- 
tion. So  elated  was  he  that  he  not  only  became  ob- 
livious of  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  but  forgot  for  the 
time  that  he  was  a  prisoner  and  tliat  his  companions 
were  deserters. 

But  the  situation  assumed  its  normal  proportions  before 
his  mind  as  soon  as  one  "Mitch"  Jenkins,  who  had  first 
appeared  in  the  camp  late  that  afternoon,  began  to  speak 


"BREATHES    THERE    THE  MAN,"  ETC.  81 

of  the  great  difficulty  he  had  had  in  finding  the  island 
and  of  the  recent  events  of  his  life  before  entering  the 
swamp. 

"  I  depend  ef  this  Oke-fe-noke  ain't  a  sight,"  Jenkins 
was  saying  when  Joe's  attention  was  drawn  to  him. 
"  Mis'  Jackson  "  —  glancing  at  Sweet  —  "  put  me  on  the 
trail  and  told  me  'bout  how  fur  it  was,  but  I  thought  shore 
I  was  lost  many  a  time,  and  calkilated  never  to  git  h-yer. 
I  spent  one  night  in  this  swamp  by  my  lone  self,  and  I 
don't  want  to  spend  nair  'nother.  I  dunner  what  1  did  71 1 
hear  nosin'  an'  trampin'  round  in  them  woods  !  I  thought 
to  myself,  I  'd  a'most  as  soon  be  under  fire  in  battle ; 
though  I  kin  jes'  tell  you  it  ain't  no  fun  to  hear  the  cannons 
a-roarin'  right  at  you,  and  feel  the  bullets  a-whistlin'  round 
yer  years,  and  see  men  a-fallin'  an'  dyin'  all  round  you,  and 
the  blood  a-runnin'  like  water." 

"  No,  it  ain't,"  assented  Bubber  Hardy ;  "  but  you  git  sort 
0'  used  to  it  after  a  while." 

"  Them  edicated  fellers  out  o'  the  towns  and  off  the  l)ig 
plantations  seem  able  to  stand  it  better  'n  we  piny-woods 
fellers,  —  we  '  Crackers,'  as  they  call  us,"  continued  Jen- 
kins, with  the  air  of  one  stating  a  curious  and  unaccount- 
able fact.  "They'll  stand  up  there  and  be  shot  down  like 
I  dunner  what  'fore  they  '11  run." 

"  They  've  got  more  intrust  in  the  fight  than  we-all  have, 
—  that's  the  reason,"  asserted  Jackson. 

"  That  ain't  all.  It 's  becaze  they  're  fightin'  mad  all  the 
time,  and  ready  to  swear  they  '11  conquer  or  die.  Tliat  's 
what  they  say  we  must  do.  They  think  if  we  don't  whip 
the  Yankees,  the  end  0'  the  world  is  a-comin'.     I  'm  willin' 

6 


82  IN   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

enough  to  conquer  if  hit  can  be  done  easy,  but  I  ai)it 
willin'  to  die. 

"  I  waited  a  mighty  long  time  'fore  /  deserted,  though," 
continued  Jenkins,  looking  around  him  with  an  air  of 
conscious  superiority ;  "  and  I  reckon  I  would  n't  'a'  been 
li-yer  now  if  they  could  'a'  fed  me.  Them  soldiers  thar  in 
Verginy  is  putty  nigh  starvin,'  you  hear  me ;  and  what 's 
a  man  to  do  ?  If  a  man  's  goin'  to  light,  he  's  got  to  eat,  — 
that 's  what  /  say.     Ain't  it  so,  men  ?  " 

As  no  one  seemed  disposed  to  gainsay  this  point,  the 
new-comer  proceeded  to  describe  in  detail  the  increasing 
sufferings  of  himself  and  his  fellow-soldiers  of  the  totter- 
ing Confederacy.  He  also  told  how  he  had  run  the  gaunt- 
let, —  a  feat  more  easily  accomplished  in  these  days  of 
wide-spread  disaster  than  formerly,  —  and  travelled  home- 
ward over  hundreds  of  miles  of  war-scarred  country,  every- 
where now  the  scene  of  great  privation  and  trying  strait, 
filled  with  a  people  aghast  at  their  crowding  misfortunes, 
but  unbroken  in  spirit,  and  for  the  most  part  as  loyal  as 
ever  they  were  in  happier  times  to  the  cause  which  they 
had  chosen  to  love  and  uphold,  and  which  represented 
their  most  solemn  convictions. 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you,  people  is  seein'  sights  these  days," 
declared  Jenkins.  "  The  Yankees  have  got  Savannah 
and  Brunswick  and  'most  everything  else,  and  the  piny 
woods  round  the  Oke-fe-noke  is  plum'  full  o'  refugees,  — 
old  men,  fine  ladies,  and  little  children,  —  and  some  of  'em 
ain't  hardly  got  a  roof  to  shelter  'em.  Hit's  turrible, — 
hit's  plum'  turrible." 

Unable  longer  to  listen  quietly  to  the  account  of  the 


''BREATHES   THERE    THE  MAN,''   ETC.  83 

accumulating  disasters  of  the  Confederacy,  Joe  had  all  at 
once  started  up  and  begun  to  speak.  The  fermented 
beverage  that  he  had  imbibed  added  to  his  excitement, 
and  perhaps  entered  as  a  factor  into  his  carelessness  of 
consequences,  although  he  was  by  nature  of  a  markedly 
brave  and  determined  spirit.  Starting  up  in  the  first 
place  in  the  energy  of  an  excited  attempt  to  controvert  a 
statement  made  by  one  of  the  men,  before  either  he  or 
his  companions  quite  realized  what  had  taken  place,  he 
was  standing  forth  and  boldly  addressing  them. 

In  school  he  had  been  noted  for  his  unusual  eloquence, 
and  fondness  for  declaiming  martial  and  patriotic  poems ; 
and  although  he  now  often  hesitated,  repeated  himself,  and 
mingled  his  haphazard  quotations  from  these  poems  with 
the  commonplaces  of  boyish  phraseology,  he  spoke  with 
real  eloquence,  and  the  deserters  listened  to  him  in  as- 
tonishment and  admiration.  The  boy  seemed  to  forget 
everything  but  his  intense  desire  to  awaken  patriotic 
enthusiasm  in  the  men  around  him. 

Joe  asked  —  in  substance  —  how  his  hearers  could  sit 
supinely  and  selfishly  in  the  Okefenokee  when  every 
man  was  needed  at  the  front ;  when  one  disaster  was  fol- 
lowing fast  upon  another ;  when  there  was  a  chance  that 
the  lost  ground  might  yet  be  regained  if  the  faint-hearted 
and  faithless  would  but  repent  of  their  evil  way  and  join 
forces  with  the  brave  !  It  was  true  that  the  struo-o-le  was 
more  and  more  one  against  fearful  odds,  but  many  a  bat- 
tle had  been  won  against  fearful  odds.  "  '  Courage,' "  cried 
the  boy,  with  enthusiasm  and  in  stirring  tones,  quoting 
from  one  of  his  familiar  speeches  — 


84  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

" '  Courage,  therefore,  brother  men  ; 
Courage,  —  to  the  fight  again  ! '  " 

And  even  should  they  fall  in  battle,  was  it  not  a 
thousand  times  better  to  die  gloriously  than  to  live  in  dis- 
honor worse  than  death  ?  They  talked  of  suffering  and 
privation  —  as  if  it  were  not  gloiy  itself  to  endure  all  this 
for  a  noble  cause  !  Would  they  sell  tlieir  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage  ?  Would  they  barter  the  beloved  Con- 
federacy for  a  dinner  ?  What  infamy  !  The  boy  declared 
he  would  rather  starve  a  thousand  times  than  desert  in 
the  hour  of  greatest  need. 

After  referring  with  telling  effect  to  several  traitors  and 
renegades  of  history,  and  the  imperishable  dishonor 
attached  to  their  names,  the  excited  young  orator  assured 
the  deserters  —  all  in  his  own  boyish  way  —  that  their 
disgraceful  and  selfish  flight  to  the  swamp  reminded  him  of 
the  infamous,  perjured  Scots,  who  sold  their  trusting  king 
to  Cromwell  for  a  song.  He  also  compared  them  to  the 
revengeful  Coriolanus,  who  led  the  victorious  Volscians  to 
the  gates  of  his  native  city,  relenting  only  at  sight  of  his 
wife,  his  old  mother,  and  a  train  of  Eoman  matrons  on 
their  knees  and  in  tears  at  his  feet.  Did  the  selfish  and 
cruel  men  of  the  present  instance,  whose  desertion  had 
lielped  to  sap  the  strength  of  the  armies  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, wish  to  see  tliose  refugeeing  women  and  children 
kneeling  and  in  tears  at  tlicir  feet  ? 

Finally  he  eloquently  recited  a  portion  of  the  "  Lay  of 
the  Last  Minstrel, "  on  the  subject  of  the  love  of  country, 
which  he  knew  by  heart,  beginning  — 

"  Breathes  there  the  man,  with  soul  so  dead," 


Finally  he  eloquently  recited  a  portion  of  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel 

Page  84. 


"BREATHES   THERE   THE  31  AN,"   ETC.  85 

delivering  with  especial  emphasis  and  fire  the  concluding 

lines  :  — 

"  Despite  those  titles,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust,  from  whence  lie  sprung. 
Unwept,  unhouored,  and  unsung." 

Then,  quite  overcome  by  the  violence  of  his  emotions, 
the  boy  turned  and  rushed  away,  exclaiming,  "  0  God, 
I  wish  I  were  a  man ! "  Throwing  himself  down  on  the 
grass  near  the  fire  where  Asa,  Billy,  and  Charley  stood 
listening,  he  burst  into  sobs. 

"  That  boy  '11  run  me  crazy,"  muttered  Bubber  Hardy, 
starting  to  his  feet  with  a  snort  and  striding  away  into 
the  darkness. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like  ?  "  asked  Lofton,  breaking 
a  dead  silence.  "  It  everlas'nly  made  the  cold  chills  run 
up  and  down  my  back." 

"  I  depend  he  'd  make  a  powerful  exorter,"  remarked 
the  man  Thatcher,  who  had  been  a  lay  preacher. 

"  He  '11  make  a  brave  cap  'n  in  the  army  one  these 
days  —  if  the  war  holds  out  long  enough  ;  that 's  what  he  '11 
'make,"  declared  the  new-comer  Jenkins. 

"  That  beer  must  'a'  made  him  half  tight,  or  he  would  n't 
'a'  dared,"  growled  Sweet  Jackson.  "He's  gittin'  a  little 
too  big  for  his  breeches,  and  he  'd  jes'  better  look  out.  I 
don't  aim  to  stand  no  sich." 

As  if  in  answer  to  this  threat,  Bubber  Hardy  now 
appeared  on  the  outskirts  of  the  circle  of  firelight. 


86  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  I  jes'  want  to  put  you  all  on  notice,"  he  said,  iu  a 
shaken  voice,  before  receding  into  the  darkness :  "  if  any- 
body lays  his  finger  on  that  boy,  he  's  got  me  to  whip." 

Meanwhile  Asa  and  Charley  had  drawn  near  the  sob- 
bing boy,  wondering  at  what  they  saw ;  and  even  Billy 
seemed  sobered  for  the  moment. 

"Xem-mind,  Mas'  Joe,  honey,"  said  the  negro,  sooth- 
ingly. "Don'  cry.  It'll  all  come  out  right.  Sho'  got 
to  be  a  deviation  some  o'  dese  days.  I  wish  yo'  pa  an' 
ma  could  'a'  heard  you  givin'  it  to  dem  mens  dat-a  way." 
The  negro  added,  "  I  know  dey  'd  'a'  been  proud.  An'  I 
gwine  tell  'em,  too,  soon  's  ever  I  git  de  chance,  —  I  gwine 
tell  'em  eve  'y  word  !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   "  COCK   OF   THE   WALK  "   IS    "  HURTED  "   IN    HIS   MIND. 

I  DON'  reckon  we  better  try  it  to-night,"  whispered 
Asa,  half  an  hour  later. 

Joe  now  sat  up,  looking  dreamingly  into  the  fire,  and 
several  of  the  deserters  were  climbing  up  into  the  loft 
to  bed. 

"  Try  what  ? "  asked  the  boy,  absently. 

"  Try  to  run  off  like  we  made  out  to  do  dis  morniu'. 
You  boys  '11  feel  too  stiff  an'  bad,  won't  you,  wid  all  dem 
scratches  fum  dat  vigeous  wile-cat  ? " 

"  No  ;  we  'd  better  not  try  it  to-night,"  was  the  answer, 
and  Joe  relapsed  into  his  revery. 

During  the  next  day,  both  boys  suffered  a  good  deal 
from  their  scratches,  as  Asa  had  foreseen.  Charley  al- 
lowed Billy  to  draw  him  into  frolicsome  play  now  aud 
then ;  but  Joe  lay  quietly  on  the  grass  with  closed  eyes,  or 
watching  Asa. 

"  Mr.  Hardy  is  hurted  in  he  mind,  you  see  him  so,"  the 
negro  said  to  the  boy,  late  in  tlie  afternoon.  "  Dis  morniu' 
he  went  off  in  one  de  boats  all  by  hisself,  an'  dis  evenin' 
he  ain't  done  nothin'  but  walk  aroun'  all  to  hissef  lookin' 
powerful  serious." 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  him  ? " 


88  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  I  reckon  you  gie  him  too  big  a  dose  las'  night,  — 
putty  nigh  mo  'n  he  could  swallow.  Dat  man  hurted  in 
he  mind,  /  tell  you  ! " 

"  He  's  more  of  a  man  than  any  of  the  others,"  com- 
mented Joe.  "  It 's  strange  he  ever  deserted.  I  know 
he  's  not  a  coward." 

The  boys  felt  better  next  morning,  and  gladly  accepted 
the  invitation  given  them  by  Hardy  to  take  a  trip  with 
him  in  his  boat.  Any  sort  of  change  was  welcome,  espe- 
cially to  Joe,  who  chafed  constantly.  Hardy  announced  to 
the  men  at  breakfast  that  he  was  going  to  Honey  Island, 
and  expected  to  keep  an  eye  open  for  a  bee-tree.  Honey 
had  been  found  on  this  island  more  than  once  before,  it 
appeared  ;  hence  its  name. 

Asa  was  ordered  to  prepare  a  lunch,  and  the  three  were 
soon  ready  to  start.  Sweet  Jackson  observed  their  prepa- 
rations narrowly,  and  before  they  got  off  he  called  "  Bud  " 
Jones,  and  "  Zack  "  Lofton  aside,  and  urged  them  to  take  a 
second  boat  and  accompany  the  party. 

"  I  jes'  bet  Bubber  aims  to  turn  them  boys  loose,"  he 
said  uneasily.  "  Hit 's  more  'n  he  can  stand  to  have  that 
boy  Joe  around,  a-carryin'  on  and  a-exhortin'  that-a  way, 
and  he  wants  to  git  shed  o'  him." 

"  I  '11  bet  five  dollars  that 's  jes'  what  he 's  up  to,"  ex- 
claimed Jones ;  and  Lofton  gave  expression  to  the  same 
suspicion. 

"  I  'd  like  well  enough  to  git  slied  o'  that  bigity  little 
chap  myself,"  Sweet  continued,  "  but  hit  won't  begin  to 
do  ;  hit  ain't  safe.  I  tell  you  what  you  two  fellows  better 
do,  —  you  go  'long  with  Bubber  to  Honey  Island,  and  keep 
your  eye  on  them  boys." 


THE  ''COCK   OF   THE    WALK.''  89 

The  precaution  was  one  in  which  all  were  equally  inter- 
ested, and  the  two  men  readily  agreed  to  go.  As  he  was 
poling  his  bateau  off  from  the  shore,  Hardy  was  surprised 
to  see  them  coming  down  the  slope,  each  with  a  musket  in 
one  hand  and  a  bucket  in  the  other, 

"  Don't  you  reckon  we  better  go  'long,  Bubber  ?  "  asked 
Jones,  persuasively.  "  Mebby  you  '11  find  a  bee-tree,  and 
we  kin  holp  you  cut  it  and  git  the  honey.  We  was  goiu' 
over  that-a  way,  anyhow." 

"  All  right,"  was  the  brief  answer ;  and  the  two  men 
sprang  promptly  into  a  second  boat. 

It  was  soon  quite  evident  to  all,  however,  that  the 
"  cock  of  the  walk  "  was  displeased.  During  the  long  hard 
pull  of  three  hours  over  the  boat-road,  winding  through  the 
flooded  swamp  and  forest,  he  did  not  once  speak  to  the 
two  men,  although  the  distance  between  the  boats  was 
never  greater  than  a  hundred  yards,  and  often  not  more 
than  a  few  feet.  But  he  spoke  now  and  then  to  the  boys, 
pointing  out  objects  likely  to  interest  them. 

"Honey  Islant  ain't  as  big  as  our'n,"  he  told  them 
once,  "  but  the  bresh  is  thicker."  He  then  added  with 
particular  emphasis  :  "  On  t'other  side  from  where  we  '11 
land,  there  's  a  good  trail  that  leads  out  o'  the  swamp,  — 
over  land,  too ;  you  don't  need  no  boat.  /  could  git  out 
o'  the  swamp  in  half  a  day  by  that  trail." 

Joe  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  him  and  Charley 
to  reach  the  outer  world  by  the  same  path  ;  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  if  Asa  could  only  be  with  them,  the  three 
might  slip  away,  and  make  good  their  escape,  while  the 
deserters  were  engaged  in  cutting  the   bee-tree.     He  was 


90  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

also  a  good  deal  surprised  that  Hardy  should  mention  the 
existence  of  such  a  trail,  little  dreaming  that  the  big  de- 
serter, in  his  present  troubled  state  of  mind,  would  gladly 
see  the  two  young  prisoners  make  their  escape.  The  boys 
little  knew  that  their  friend  even  felt  disposed  to  assist 
them  in  getting  off,  provided  he  could  do  so  without  excit- 
ing suspicion  among  the  men,  and  provided  they  would  go 
and  leave  Asa  behind. 

Hardy  rightly  believed  that  there  were  a  thousand 
chances  to  one  against  the  boys  being  able  to  guide  a  party 
of  soldiers  to  Deserters'  Island,  even  supposing  the  soldiers 
could  be  spared  for  such  duty  in  these  days  of  misfortune 
and  disaster ;  but  the  odds  were  far  less  great  against  the 
ability  of  the  negro  to  do  the  like,  and,  besides,  Asa's  labor 
was  wanted  in  the  camp. 

And  so  the  two  boys  had  been  invited  to  go  to  Honey 
Island,  and  on  the  way  the  hint  was  given  them,  although 
the  prospects  of  their  successful  escape  were  threatened  by 
the  presence  of  Jones  and  Lofton. 

"  Charley,"  called  out  the  last-named  when  the  island 
was  reached,  "  pick  up  that  piece  o'  rope  in  yer  boat  and 
fetch  it  along  ;  we  '11  need  it,  mebby." 

The  boats  had  been  run  aground  several  yards  from  dry 
land,  and  all  hands  were  now  wading  out,  Charley  being 
the  last  to  step  into  the  water,  carrying  the  desired  coil 
of  rope. 

"  I  b'lieve  I  kin  go  right  to  one,"  said  Bubber  Hardy^ 
as  soon  as  they  had  struggled  through  the  dense  "  ham- 
mock," and  gained  the  higher  level  of  the  island.  "  When 
I  was  huntin'  over  h-yer,  week  before  last,  I  seen  lots  and 


THE  ''COCK   OF   THE    WALK:'  91 

cords  o'  bees,  and  I  watched  which  way  they  was  flyin'. 
If  I  'd  'a'  had  time,  I  could  'a'  spotted  cue  right  then." 

No  one  was  surprised,  therefore,  when,  less  than  an  hour 
later,  a  bee-tree  was  found.  Pausing  under  a  tall  pine,  the 
big  deserter  turned  to  his  followers,  and  pointed  to  an 
almost  continuous  stream  of  bees,  quite  black  against  the 
bright  sky,  issuing  from  an  unseen  hole  in  the  trunk  of  the 
tree  a  few  inches  above  the  lowest  branch,  but  more  than 
sixty  feet  from  the  ground. 

It  was  now  midday,  and  before  attacking  the  tree,  the 
party  sat  down  on  the  grass,  and  ate  the  lunch  which  Asa 
had  provided.  Tlien,  without  any  unnecessary  waste  of 
time,  Jones  and  Lofton  rose  and  vigorously  plied  their 
axes  on  opposite  sides  of  the  tree.  Scarcely  had  the  chips 
begun  to  fly,  when  Bubber  Hardy  suddenly  addressed  Joe 
in  a  lowered  voice. 

"You  boys  kin  take  yer  gun  and  run  around  for  a  little 
hunt  while  we  are  cuttin'  the  tree  and  getherin'  the  honey," 
he  said.  "Maybe  you'll  strike  that  trail  I  told  you  'bout," 
he  added. 

"  I  'd  rather  stay  and  see  you  get  the  honey,"  said  Charley, 
watching  the  flying  of  the  chips  with  great  interest. 

"  No,  come  along,"  urged  Joe,  in  a  tone  the  seriousness  of 
which  his  little  brother  could  not  mistake. 

"  You  kin  git  all  the  honey  you  want  when  you  come 
back,"  said  Hardy,  smiling  at  the  little  fellow. 

Charley  yielded,  evidently  against  his  own  wishes ; 
and,  involuntarily  snatcliing  up  the  coil  of  rope,  which 
he  had  carried  so  long,  he  followed  liis  brother  into  the 
bushes. 


92  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  This  is  as  good  a  chance  to  get  away  as  we  '11  ever  have," 
said  Joe,  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"  Get  away,  —  without  Asa  ?  "  asked  Charley,  astonished. 

"Yes.  We'll  have  to  leave  him,  —  we  can't  lielp  it,  I 
thought  it  over  wliile  we  were  coming  in  the  boat,  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  try  it  if  tliere  was  half  a  chance.  If 
we  hurry  down  to  the  other  end  of  the  island  and  find  tliat 
trail  Mr.  Hardy  spoke  about,  we  may  get  out  of  the  swamp 
by  night." 

"  But  I  hate  to  leave  Asa,"  said  Charley,  regretfully. 

"  Never  mind.  Wait  till  I  guide  a  lot  of  soldiers  in 
here  ;  then  we  '11  get  Asa  ! " 

Joe  had  been  pushing  ahead  while  he  spoke,  followed  by 
the  half-reluctant  Charley,  and  he  now  began  to  move 
forward  in  great  liaste. 

The  watchful  Jones  had  not  failed  to  note  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  boys,  and  he  immediately  began  to  show  signs 
of  fatigue,  drawing  his  breath  very  hard,  putting  in  his 
strokes  more  slowly,  and  finally  pausing  altogether,  with  an 
exclamation  indicating  that  his  exhaustion  was  complete. 

"Tired  out  a'ready?"  asked  Bubber,  contemptuously ; 
and,  taking  the  axe,  which  was  willingly  resigned  to  him, 
he  began  to  swing  it  with  great  vigor  and  despatch. 

This  was  precisely  what  the  cunning  Jones  desired,  and 
he  lost  no  time  in  darting  into  the  bushes  on  the  track  of 
the  two  boys.  Half  an  hour  later,  as  Joe  and  Charley 
hurried  forward,  leaping  over  logs  and  dashing  through  the 
crowding  under-brush,  the  former  happened  to  glance  in 
the  direction  whence  they  had  come,  and  as  he  did  so  dis- 
tinctly saw  a  man  leap  behind  a  tree. 


THE   ''COCK   OF   THE    WALK:'  93 

"  It 's  no  use,  Charley,"  he  said,  sto^iping  short.  "  Bud 
Jones  is  following  us.     I  saw  him  jump  behind  a  tree." 

The  boys  sat  down,  panting,  on  a  log,  and  after  a  few 
moments  Joe  proposed  that  they  go  forward  more  slowly  a 
half-mile  further,  and  then  return  to  the  bee-tree,  just  as  if 
their  trip  had  been  a  hunt  and  nothing  more. 

"I'd  fioht  him  before  I'd  surrender,  if  he  were  alone," 
said  the  elder  boy,  fiercely,  looking  toward  the  spot  where 
he  had  seen  Jones.  "  But  the  first  thing  he  'd  do  would  be 
to  whoop  up  the  others,  and  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to 
try  to  do  anything." 

Joe  swallowed  his  disappointment  and  chagrin  philo- 
sophically, and  proceeded  to  give  his  attention  to  the  pur- 
suit of  game,  picking  his  way  through  the  brush  slowly  and 
cautiously.  At  length  he  halted  and  signed  to  Charley  to 
be  quiet,  as  a  crow  suddenly  cawed  and  flew  out  of  a  tree 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  in  their  front. 

"That  crow  saw  something,  I'll  bet,"  he  whispered 
knowingly. 

And  when  presently  fresh  bear-tracks  were  discovered, 
he  added  triumphantly, — 

"I  told  you  so!" 

The  tracks  soon  led  them  into  what  was  doubtless  the 
path  of  an  aforetime  tornado,  the  ground  being  crowded 
with  uprooted  trees,  which  had  been  thrown  across  each 
other  at  every  angle,  and  lay  "heaped  in  confusion  dire." 
Here  the  trail  was  lost,  but  the  boys  still  cautiou.sly 
advanced. 

At  the  terminus  of  a  hundred  yards,  standing  on  an 
elevated  log  and  looking  forward,  Joe  became  greatly  ex- 


94  IX   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

cited  at  the  discovery,  uot  twenty  feet  away,  of  a  small  open 
space  covered  with  a  deep  drift  of  pine  needles,  in  tlie 
centre  of  which  were  two  round  depressions  or  beds,  some 
fifteen  inches  deep  and  not  less  than  four  feet  in  diameter. 
In  one  of  these  were  two  young  bears,  evidently  asleep, 
the  mother  being  probably  out  feeding. 

Signing  to  Charley  to  be  very  quiet  but  to  come  quickly, 
Joe  waited  until  his  little  brother  stood  beside  him  on  the 
log,  and  had  seen  what  neither  were  likely  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  again.  For,  indeed,  as  the  deserters 
afterwards  declared,  it  was  a  "  find "  as  remarkable  as 
unexpected. 

"  Don't  shoot  'em  ! "  pleaded  Charley,  as  Joe  lifted  his 
oun  to  take  aim.  "  Let's  catch  one  of  'em  alive  and  take  it 
to  Billy.     We  can  tie  it  with  this  piece  of  rope." 

"  Well,  we  can  try  it,"  assented  Joe,  determining  not  to 
fire  unless  the  attempt  at  capture  failed. 

Cautiously  they  stole  down  the  log  and  stepped  upon  the 
soft  carpet  of  pine-needles,  but  now,  unfortunately,  a  twig 
snapped  under  Charley's  foot,  and  one  of  the  little  bears 
lifted  its  head  and  looked  arou-nd.  An  instant  later  cub 
number  one  leaped  to  its  feet  with  a  gruff  snort  and  bolted 
into  the  bushes,  but  before  number  two  had  followed,  Joe 
was  upon  him. 

Letting  his  gun  fall,  the  boy  leaped  forward,  alighting 
astride  of  the  cub's  back  and  grasping  its  ears  with  both 
hands.  Uttering  a  peculiar  sound,  partaking  of  both  an 
angry  snarl  and  a  terrified  whimper,  the  vigorous  little 
bear  tried  to  jump  ;  but  Joe  exerted  all  his  strength  and 
successfully  held  it  down,  the  frantic  cub  meanwhile  tear- 


THE   ''COCK   OF   THE    WALK."  95 

iug  up  the  bed  of  piue  needles  with  its  well-grown  and 
powerful  claws,  and  struggling  furiously  to  get  at  its 
captor. 

By  this  time  Charley  had  made  a  slip-knot,  as  he  was 
directed,  and  passed  the  rope  around  the  animal's  neck. 
Seizing  firm  hold  of  the  other  end  of  the  rope,  Joe  rose 
and    let  the  cub  go. 

"  We  'd  better  look  out  for  the  old  one  now,"  he  said 
warniugly. 

Eeleased,  the  cub  ran  away  with  great  precipitation, 
dragging  the  boy  after  it,  along  a  path  which  fortunately 
led  out  into  the  more  open  pine  woods,  and  in  the  direction 
of  the  bee-tree. 

"  Bring  my  gun,"  called  Joe,  and  picking  it  up,  Charley 
ran  after  him,  trying  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  the  "  old 
one,"  as  he  was  warned  to  do. 

As  long  as  the  cub  ran  in  the  right  direction,  no  effort 
was  made  to  check  its  progress ;  but  before  a  great  while 
it  turned  off  abruptly  to  the  right,  and  then  Joe  was  forced 
to  exert  all  his  strength  in  order  to  drag  it  after  him. 
Even  then  his  efforts  would  have  been  comparatively  with- 
out result,  had  not  Charley,  who  proudly  covered  their 
retreat,  gun  in  hand,  frightened  the  little  bear  from  be- 
hind with  a  frequent  shove  of  his  foot. 

Within  a  few  minutes  Bubber  Hardy  had  become  aware 
of  Jones's  absence,  and  he  was  not  slow  to  suspect  the 
cause  thereof;  but  he  went  on  cutting  without  a  word, 
concluding  that  it  would  be  wiser  not  to  interfere.  When 
Jones  reappeared,  tliree  quarters  of  an  hour  later,  offering 
some  trivial  excuse  for  his  absence.  Hardy  concluded  that 


96  /xV   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

the  boys  had  successfully  eluded  their  pursuer.  By  this 
time  the  tree  was  down,  the  hollow  had  been  located,  and, 
protected  from  the  angry  bees  by  the  smoke  from  burning 
rags,  the  three  men  proceeded  to  cut  into  the  tree  and  secure 
the  stores  of  honey. 

Jones  had  followed  the  boys  far  enough  to  become  con- 
vinced that  they  were  really  off  on  a  hunt  and  would  ere 
long  return ;  but  great  was  the  surprise  of  all  when  Joe 
and  Charley  at  length  appeared,  dragging  the  young  bear 
after  them. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  switched  if  that  don't  beat  all ! "  exclaimed 
Hardy,  dropping  a  bucket  of  honey  and  going  to  meet  the 
boys. 

Before  there  was  time  for  an  explanation,  a  sound  as  of 
a  hurrying,  bulky  body  was  heard  in  the  brush,  out  of 
which  captors  and  captive  had  just  made  their  appearance, 
■N^arning  all  hands  to  be  on  their  guard. 

"  It 's  the  old  one  ! "  cried  Joe,  and,  surrendering  the  rope 
to  Charley,  he  snatched  his  gun  and  stood  ready,  just  as  a 
large  she-bear  dashed  into  the  open,  and  came  toward  them, 
snarling  fiercely,  and  clearly  determined  to  battle  for  her 
vounu'.     There  are  few  animals  more  dang;erous  when  at 

I/O  O 

bay,  or  bearded  in  tlie  den,  and,  not  daring  to  trust  to  Joe's 
marksmanship,  Hardy  ran  for  his  own  weapons. 

Joe  fired  promptly  and  with  good  effect,  although  trem- 
bling with  excitement.  The  load  of  buck-shot  pierced  the 
animal's  tough  hide  between  the  neck  and  left  shoulder, 
causing  it  to  halt  with  a  hoarse  wliine  or  growl  of  pain. 
But  only  for  a  moment.  With  a  maddened  snort,  the  bear 
came  on  more  fiercely  than  ever,  until  a  bullet  from  Hardy's 


THE   ''COCK   OF   THE    WALK.''  97 

rille  entered  a  vital  part,  causing  the  bulky  form  to  roll 
over  on  its  side  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

As  Hardy  and  Joe  ran  forward  to  examine  the  prize 
cries  were  heard  from  Jones  aud  Lofton,  who  were  now 
seen  running  wildly,  pursued  by  dozens  of  infuriated  bees. 
In  their  absorbed  interest  in  the  shooting  of  the  bear,  the 
two  men  had  forgotten  the  necessary  manipulation  of  the 
burning  rags,  allowing  them  to  go  out,  and  were  now  simul- 
taneously  attacked  by  the  determined  little  citizens  whose 
walls  had  been  rudely  broken  open,  and  the  fruits  of  whose 
busy  labors  were  being  seized. 

After  a  hot  pursuit  of  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  the  bees 
returned  to  their  rifled  storehouse  and  the  robbers  were 
allowed  to  escape,  not,  however,  before  each  had  been  stung 
several  times. 

"  I  saw  you  sneakin'  along  behind  and  watchin'  us,"  said 
Joe,  contemptuously,  to  Jones,  when  later  all  hands  stood 
looking  on  as  Hardy  skinned  the  bear. 

"  Who,  me  ?  I  was  lookin'  for  another  bee-tree,"  was 
the  ready  answer. 

A  chain  was  brought  from  the  boats ;  and  the  captive  cub, 
which  had  gnawed  the  rope  in  two  and  very  nearly  effected 
its  escape,  was  permanently  secured  therewith.  Shortly 
afterward,  laden  M'ith  many  pounds  of  the  choicest  steaks, 
the  bear's  hide,  and  two  buckets  of  honey,  not  to  mention 
the  young  cub,  which  the  boys  forced  after  them,  the  party 
returned  to  the  boats  and  paddled  homeward. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  GANDER-PULLING. 

DUEING  the  return  trip,  strange  as  it  might  seem,  Joe 
and  Charley  were  the  most  cheerful  ones  of  the  party. 
The  faces  of  Jones  and  Lofton  were  by  this  time  swollen 
almost  beyond  recognition ;  and  the  pain  and  vexation 
which  they  suffered  often  drove  them  to  swear  furiously. 
Bubber  Hardy  suffered  no  physical  pain,  but  his  mood  was 
scarcely  more  agreeable.  Asa's  perceptions  guided  him 
aright  when  he  asserted  that  the  big  deserter  was  "  hurted  " 
in  his  mind. 

The  two  boys,  on  the  other  hand,  were  so  delighted  over 
their  successful  capture  of  the  young  bear,  and  had  been 
so  much  diverted  by  the  many  unusual  incidents  of  the 
day,  that  they  almost  forgot  their  own  captivity,  and  hardly 
even  regretted  their  recent  failure  to  escape,  especially  as 
Joe  felt  doubts  of  the  advisability  of  their  making  the 
attempt  without  Asa. 

The  party  reached  Deserters'  Island  an  hour  after  dark, 
and  great  was  the  sensation  around  the  camp-fire  when 
Joe  and  Charley  appeared  with  their  prize,  and  the  honey, 
the  bear-meat,  and  the  skin  were  exhibited. 

Billy  almost  danced  with  delight  at  sight  of  the  cub, 
and  was  soon  busying  himself  preparing  something  for  it 
to  eat. 


THE   GANDER-PULLING.  99 

•'  Well,  I  depend  if  them  two  boys  ain't  a  sight  in  this 
world ! "  declared  the  new-comer,  Jenkins,  with  undisguised 
admiration. 

"  Kafe  and  Jim  come  back  this  evenin',"  announced  Sweet 
Jackson,  as  the  "  cock  of  the  walk  "  appeared,  referring  to 
two  of  the  deserters,  who  had  gone  out  of  the  swamp  a  day 
or  two  since  in  quest  of  meal  and  salt. 

"  Did  they  git  the  salt  ?  "  Hardy  asked. 

"Yes,  and  two  bushels  o'  meal." 

"  We  kin  do  without  meal,  but  we  got  to  have  salt." 

"  And  they  brung  a  live  gander,"  put  in  Jenkins.  "  What 
do  you  say,  boys  ?  Less  have  a  gander-pulliu'  to-morrow," 
he  continued,  looking  from  one  to  another. 

"  We  ain't  got  no  horses  nor  no  race-track,"  objected  one 
of  the  men. 

"  Oh,  we  '11  jes'  swing  him  up  and  run  round  and  grab  at 
him  on  foot.  We  '11  git  jes'  as  much  fun  out  o'  it  that-a 
way.  I  've  seen  it  done  when  ther'  want  no  horses  nor 
mules  nair  one  on  hand." 

"  Anything  for  a  little  fun,"  seemed  to  be  the  consensus 
of  opinion,  and  a  gander-pulling  for  the  morrow  was  forth- 
with agreed  on. 

Before  lie  climbed  into  the  loft  that  night,  Joe  sought 
speech  with  Asa. 

"  I  'm  afraid  Charley  and  I  won't  be  able  to  keep  awake 
to-night,"  he  said.     "  But  we  must  try  it  to-morrow  night." 

"  All  right,  Mas'  Joe,"  assented  Asa.  "  To-morrow  night, 
den.  Ef  we  don't  git  off  scot  free,  we  '11  gie  'em  some  fun 
ketchin'  us,  anyhow." 

The  gander-pulling  took  place  on  the  following  after- 


100  7.V   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

noon.  During  the  morning  two  stout  poles  about  fifteen 
feet  long  had  been  sunk  into  the  ground  some  six  or  eight 
feet  apart  and  a  rope  swung  loosely  from  the  top  of  one  to 
the  otlier.  To  this,  when  the  hour  arrived,  the  gander's 
feet  were  securely  tied,  so  that  the  fowl's  neck  swung 
within  easy  reach  of  a  man  of  average  height. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  doomed  fowl  was 
hung  up,  its  long  neck  having  first  been  thoroughly  greased. 
Both  operations  were  violently  objected  to  and  jealously 
watched  by  Billy,  who  had  already  adopted  the  gander  as 
one  of  his  pets. 

All  hands  having  gathered  to  the  spot,  the  new-comer 
Jenkins,  who  seemed  to  be  the  leading  spirit  in  this  festiv- 
ity, passed  round  a  hat  and  took  up  a  collection  as  a  prize 
for  the  as  yet  unknown  victor.  As  nearly  every  one  con- 
tributed something,  the  sum  raised  was  not  inconsiderable. 
Asa,  Billy,  the  two  boys,  and  Bubber  Hardy  formed  a 
party  of  spectators,  all  the  other  men,  eight  in  number, 
proposing  to  enter  the  contest.  When  asked  why  he  did 
not  take  part,  Hardy  briefly  replied,  — 

''■  I  ain't  a-hankerin'  after  no  such  tomfoolery  to-day." 

Lots  having  been  drawn  in  order  to  determine  who 
should  have  the  first  trial,  the  second,  the  third,  and  so  on, 
Mitch'  Jenkins  looked  about  him,  with  an  air  of  impor- 
tance and  responsibility,  shouting,  — 

"  Gentlemen,  is  you  ready  ?  Let  'er  go !  Everything 's 
lovely,  and  the  goose  hangs  high  ! " 

Thereupon  Sweet  Jackson,  who  had  drawn  the  first  lot, 
took  a  position  on  a  line  drawn  about  fifty  feet  from  the 
two  posts,  and  at  a  given  signal  started  forward  at  a  rapid 


THE   GANDER-PULLING.  101 

run.  As  he  nearecl  the  swiuging  gander,  his  right  hand 
was  thrust  upward,  and  he  endeavored  to  seize  the  fowl  by 
its  neck,  but  without  success,  the  gander  cunningly  twist- 
ing its  head  out  of  reach. 

A  loud  guffaw  went  up  from  all  sides,  as  this  signal  fail- 
ure to  wring  the  fowl's  greased  neck  was  witnessed.  Bud 
Jones,  the  swelling  of  whose  face  had  subsided,  now  ran 
forward  and  made  the  attempt  with  no  better  success. 
Then  came  the  turn  of  Zack  Lofton,  whose  face  still  mutely 
bespoke  the  revenge  taken  by  the  despoiled  bees.  He 
succeeded  in  firmly  grasping  the  gander's  neck,  and  but 
for  the  treacherous  grease,  its  head  would  have  accom- 
panied him  in  his  onward  rush. 

Released,  the  unhappy  fowl  swung  back  and  forth,  hiss- 
ing and  squawking  in  an  extremely  ludicrous  and  yet 
pathetic  manner,  exciting  the  laughter  of  the  crowd,  the 
pity  of  Charley,  the  indignation  of  Joe,  and  the  teard  and 
angry  objections  of  Billy. 

"  Quit  it !  Quit  it,  I  tell  you  !  You-all  let  my  gander 
alone ! "  screamed  the  witless  young  man  again  and  again, 
as  the  contest  continued. 

Once  he  ran  between  the  two  posts  and  made  efforts  to 
take  the  fowl  down,  but  retired,  whimpering,  upon  receiv- 
ing a  resounding  box  on  the  ear  from  Sweet. 

"  It 's  wicked  to  torture  that  poor  gander  in  tliat  way,"  de- 
clared Joe,  indignantly.  "  Why  don't  they  kill  it  at  once  ?  " 
he  asked  of  Hardy. 

"  Would  n't  be  no  fun  in  that,"  was  the  answer. 

After  all  hands  had  made  several  trials  and  the  gander's 
greasy  neck  had  received  a  number  of  rude  wrenches,  the 


102  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

poor  fowl  held  its  head  less  high,  ceased  to  hiss,  and 
sc^uawked  more  plaintively  than  ever.  Tlie  game  was 
easier  now,  and  almost  every  contestant  succeeded  in  grasp- 
ing the  neck  as  he  ran  past ;  but  however  firm  his  grip, 
the  gander's  greased  head  would  inevitably  slip  from  his 
grasp. 

At  length,  after  the  contest  had  lasted  fully  an  hour  and 
a  half,  and  the  object  of  this  cruel  sport  had  almost  ceased 
to  make  any  outcry  whatever,  Zack  Lofton  leaped  upward 
as  he  ran  by  and  grasped  the  neck  of  the  fowl  near  its 
breast.  As  his  body  was  carried  onward  by  the  force  of 
its  momentum,  his  tightly  gripped  hand  slipped  like  light- 
ning along  the  gander's  neck,  but  paused  at  its  head.  For 
one  moment  the  man's  body  swung  from  the  ground,  his 
whole  weight  supported  by  the  neck  of  the  still  living 
fowl.  It  was  then  that  he  gave  his  arm  and  hand  a  vigor- 
ous twist,  and  the  next  moment  landed  on  his  feet  some 
distance  beyond  the  posts,  carrying  the  gander's  head  with 
him. 

"  Mr.  Lofton  gits  the  prize,"  cried  Jenkins,  walking 
over  to  the  victor  and  pouring  the  collection  into  his 
hands. 

"  He  did  n't  git  it  fair,"  declared  the  disappointed  Jack- 
son, in  loud,  angr}'-  tones.  "  Who  cant  wring  off  a  gander's 
neck  if  he  swings  on  to  it  that-a  way  ?  I  say  hit  want 
fair." 

"We  all  had  the  same  chance  to  do  what  he  did,"  ar- 
gued Jenkins,  good-humoredly.  "  The  trouble  was  we 
could  n't  keep  our  grip." 

"  That 's  right,"  agreed  several  others. 


THE   GANDER-PULLING.  103 

"  And  I  say  hit  want  no  ways  fair ! "  repeated  Jackson, 
in  great  anger. 

Flushed  with  victory,  Lofton  did  not  pause  to  calculate 
consequences  (for  Jackson  was  a  dangerous  man)  and 
promptly  gave  his  accuser  the  lie,  which,  in  local  par- 
lance, was  equivalent  to  the  "  first  lick." 

Sweet  Jackson's  face  turned  livid,  and,  whipping  out  a 
long  knife,  he  leaped  toward  Lofton.  The  uplifted  blade 
descended  before  it  could  be  warded  off,  and,  as  the  other 
men  rushed  in  and  forcibly  separated  the  enraged  com- 
batants, the  two  boys,  looking  on  with  all  their  eyes,  noted 
a  long  narrow  red  streak  all  across  Lofton's  forehead  and 
left  cheek.  An  instant  later  this  had  expanded  an  inch  in 
width,  and  presently  the  man's  whole  face  was  covered 
with  blood. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Zack  Lofton,  see  now  what  you  got  for  pullin' 
off  my  gander's  head  ! "  cried  Billy,  triumphantly,  dancing 
about  and  giggling.  "  See  what  you  got  now!  I  wish  my 
gander  knowed  it.  I  '11  bet  he  does  know,  too.  Anyhow 
he'll  know  by  and  by,  and  he'll  laugh.  He'll  have  a 
good  laufrh." 

"  Shut  up  your  tomfoolery  ! "  commanded  Bubber,  as  he 
passed  the  half-witted  young  man,  and  proceeded  to  care 
for  the  wounded. 

Sweet  Jackson  was  forced  away  in  one  direction  and 
Lofton  in  another,  botli  cursing  witli  great  fury,  and  each 
vowing  that  he  would  take  the  life  of  the  otlier. 

Meanwhile  the  two  boys  and  the  negro  remained  immov- 
able in  their  places,  wondering  what  would  happen  next, 
until  Billy  approached  and,  cutting  down  the  headless  body 


104  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

of  the  gander,  was  about  to  bear  it  away.  Then  Asa  inter- 
fered. 

"  Gim-me  dat  gander,  boy,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  Quit 
yer  foolin'.  Quit  yer  behavishness,  I  tell  you !  We  got 
to  hab  dat  gander  fer  dinner  to-morrer,  you  see  hit  so." 

Lofton  now  lay  on  his  back  on  the  grass,  and  Bubber 
Hardy  was  on  his  knees,  bending  over  him  and  wiping 
away  the  blood.  The  cut  across  the  cheek  was  so  deep 
that  it  was  found  necessary  to  sew  it  up,  to  which  opera- 
tion Lofton  submitted  without  resistance,  but  groaned  as  if 
in  great  pain.  Having  done  all  that  seemed  necessary  or 
possible.  Hardy  assisted  the  wounded  man  into  the  loft, 
bade  him  lie  down  in  his  corner,  and  made  him  as  com- 
fortable as  the  circumstances  would  permit. 

The  "  cock  of  the  walk  "  then  sought  out  Sweet  Jackson 
and  spoke  to  him  with  a  serious,  determined  air,  after 
which  that  pugnacious  individual  rapidly  cooled  down, 
ceasing  the  profane  and  threatening  speeches  in  which  he 
had  been  loudly  indulging  since  the  moment  he  was 
dragged  away  from  his  foe. 

Notwithstanding  this  violent  termination  to  the  festive 
gander-pulling,  the  deserters,  M'ith  the  exception  of  Bubber 
Hardy  and  the  wounded  man,  were  not  slow  to  recover 
their  wonted  spirits,  and  after  a  hearty  supper  they  sat 
about  the  fire  and  joked,  laughed,  sang  corn-shucking  songs, 
and  drank  in  the  greatest  possible  good-humor. 

Asa  smiled  covertly,  and  shook  his  head.  This  was  a 
"  deviation  "  of  a  kind  which  by  no  means  pleased  him. 
Wliere  all  this  would  end  was  more  than  he  could  be  sure 
of,  and  he  trembled  for  the  future. 


THE   GANDER-PULLING.  105 

"  Look  yuh,  Mas'  Joe,"  he  said  to  the  boy,  with  a  comi- 
cal air,  "  I  want  to  git  away  f um  dis  place  'fo'  somebody 
draw  a  knife  od  me  an'  cut  my  t'roat." 

"  Well,  let 's  make  a  break  to-night,"  the  boy  proposed, 
and  the  negro  agreed. 

"Dis  a  good  night  to  try  it,"  whispered  Asa,  as  Joe 
was  preparing  to  climb  into  the  loft  about  ten  o'clock. 
"  De  niose  o'  de  mens  is  half  drunk,  an'  dey  '11  sleep  hard  — 
cep'n  hit 's  Mr.  Lofton.  You  better  look  out  for  him  ;  he  '11 
lay  wake  mose  all  night  like  ez  not.  Don't  you  move  a 
foot  tell  'way  late  'bout  two  o'clock,  or  we  '11  ketch  de  ve'y 
devil." 


CHAPTER   XIL 

FLIGHT. 

CHAPiLEY  was  told  that  escape  would  be  attempted 
that  night ;  but  very  soon  after  they  had  lain  down 
on  their  bed  of  moss  in  the  corner  of  the  loft  lie  fell  asleep, 
leaving  the  responsibility,  as  was  natural,  to  his  brother 
and  the  negro.  Not  so  Joe,  who  lay  awake  for  hours, 
listening,  waiting,  planning. 

The  watchful  boy  was  soon  aware  that  Bubber  Hardy, 
although  probably  asleep,  was  very  restless,  and  would,  no 
doubt,  be  awakened  by  the  slightest  sound.  As  for  Lofton, 
it  seemed  doubtful  whether  he  slept  at  all,  for  every  few 
minutes  he  gave  utterance  to  a  sigh  or  groan  of  pain. 

At  last  Joe  began  to  fear  that  there  was  no  hope  of  their 
being  able  to  escape  from  the  loft  at  all  that  night,  and  in 
the  midst  of  discouragement  sleep  overtook  him. 

When  he  awoke,  all  was  quiet  in  the  loft,  except  for  the 
loud  snoring  of  several  of  the  men.  Neither  the  restless 
Hardy  nor  the  wounded  Lofton  now  made  any  sound. 
Joe  could  not  tell  why  he  thought  so,  but  he  felt  con- 
vinced that  it  was  near  morning.  Lifting  himself  guard- 
edly upon  his  knees,  he  bent  over  his  sleeping  brother,  and 
endeavored  to  rouse  him. 


FLIGHT.  107 

"  Wake  up,  Charley  !  "  he  whispered,  his  mouth  almost 
touching  the  little  boy's  ear.  "  Wake  up  !  It 's  time  for 
us  to  start." 

"  Let  me  alone  !  What  are  you  pushin'  me  for  ? "  said 
Charley,  stupidly,  and  so  loud  that  Joe  was  terrified,  and 
allowed  the  boy  to  relapse  into  slumber. 

Having  listened  intently  for  a  few  moments  and  hearing 
no  one  stirring  in  the  loft,  Joe  made  another  effort,  and 
presently  had  the  satisfaction  of  rousing  Charley  into 
complete  wakefulness  without  unnecessary  noise. 

He  then  took  his  little  brother's  hand,  and  together  they 
crept  along  the  wall  until  they  stood  opposite  the  hole  in 
the  floor.  On  the  way,  Joe,  who  was  ahead,  stumbled  over 
an  outstretched  foot,  and  narrowly  escaped  falling.  The 
disturbed  sleeper  turned  over,  grunted,  muttered  a  few 
unintelligible  words,  and  all  was  quiet  again. 

Just  as  the  boys  were  preparing  to  swing  themselves 
down  through  the  opening,  not  daring  to  put  down  the 
ladder,  one  of  the  sleepers  stirred  noisily,  and  they  heard 
the  voice  of  Lofton  demanding,  — 

"  Who  's  that  ? " 

Drawing  back  into  the  deep  shadow,  the  boys  stood 
silent,  holding  their  very  breath.  The  challenge  was 
repeated,  but  they  made  no  answer.  Then,  for  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  they  stood  in  their  tracks,  hardly  mov- 
ing a  muscle,  breathing  softly,  and  fearing  that  even  the 
violent  beating  of  their  hearts  would  be  heard. 

Convinced  at  last  that  the  wounded  man  had  relapsed 
into  slumber,  they  noiselessly  swung  themselves  down 
through  the  opening  and  dropped   to  the  ground  below. 


108  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Several  dogs,  lying  asleep  beneath  the  loft,  now  rose  and 
followed  the  hoys  with  signs  of  great  cheerfulness,  evi- 
dently anticipating  a  night  hunt. 

Their  first  object  in  view  was  to  "  turn  Asa  out,"  as 
Charley  said.  Such  phraseology  suggests  a  pen  rather 
than  a  house,  and  so  indeed  the  negro's  nightly  prison 
was  called ;  but  in  reality  it  was  a  rough  shanty  of  large 
pine  saplings,  the  door  being  secured  from  without  by  a 
leau-to  formed  of  a  section  of  a  heavy  log  about  twelve  feet 
in  length.  Having  lifted  this  away  and  let  it  down 
gently  on  the  ground,  the  door  was  opened,  and  Asa  came 
forth,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  whispering,  — 

"  I  clean  give  you  out,  and  went  to  sleep.  Hit 's  mose 
daylight,"  he  added,  "  an'  we  better  be  gwine  quick." 

After  a  hurried  consultation  it  was  decided  to  "cut 
across "  the  island  and  take  the  trail  through  the  jungle, 
rather  than  go  upon  the  prairie  in  a  boat,  where  daylight 
would  soon  discover  them  to  view.  Besides,  on  the  prairie 
they  were  likely  to  go  astray,  but,  once  on  the  jungle 
trail,  they  were  comparatively  safe  in  that  respect.  Asa 
wanted  to  secrete  the  boats  as. a  blind;  but  it  was  now 
so  near  morning  that  the  time  could  not  be  spared. 

"  Let 's  take  the  dogs,"  suggested  Joe,  "  so  that  the 
deserters  can 't  track  us.  After  we  get  a  good  start  of  five 
or  six  miles,  we  can  whip  'em  and  make  'em  go  back. 
We  '11  be  out  of  the  swamp  then  before  tliey  can  catch  us." 

Asa  agreed  to  this,  and  accordingly  the  dogs  were 
called  softly.  The  whole  pack,  five  in  number,  followed 
willingly,  as  the  two  boys  and  the  negro  hurried  away 
from  the  camp.     The  four  miles  of  tlie  island  were  covered 


FLIGHT.  109 

with  the  greatest  possible  speed.  Wherever  the  ground 
was  sufficiently  open  to  permit  it  they  ran,  Asa  leading 
Charley  by  the  hand ;  and  even  in  the  brush  they  pushed 
forward  rapidly,  careless  of  scratched  hands  and  faces  and 
torn  clothing. 

Faint  light  streamed  through  the  tree-tops  from  the 
whitening  sky  overhead  before  they  had  traversed  half  the 
length  of  the  island,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  its 
limit  broad  daylight  surrounded  them.  The  fugitives  now 
observed  with  considerable  concern  that  the  dogs  had 
disappeared,  and  surmised  that  they  had  returned  to  camp. 

"  Dey  knowed  sump'n  wrong  was  up,"  said  Asa, 
confidently. 

They  soon  found  the  trail  and  hurried  into  tlie  jungle, 
careless  of  the  mud  and  water,  the  thorny  brambles,  and 
the  possible  moccasins,  absorbed  in  their  intense  desire  to 
escape  and  the  necessity  of  great  haste;  for  they  knew 
well  that  within  an  hour's  time  the  deserters  would  begin 
the    pursuit. 

Asa,  who  led  the  way,  now  paused  suddenly  ;  and  open- 
ing a  tin  bucket  which  he  carried  on  his  arm,  he  urgently 
advised  Joe  and  Charley  to  help  themselves  to  some  of  the 
cold  bread  and  meat  therein,  and  put  it  into  their  pocketi. 

"  Gwine  to  be  hard  to  keep  tergedder,  when  de  dogs  git 
at  us,"  he  said,  —  adding,  "  but  if  you-all  git  lost  fum  me, 
don't  you  give  up ;  you  keep  gwine  right  on  by  yo'selt 
tell  you  git  home." 

Pressing  on  with  great  energy  for  an  hour  longer,  and 
not  as  yet  hearing  any  sounds  indicating  pursuit,  they 
began  to  feel  more  secure ;  and  by  and  by,  at  the  urgent 


110  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

request  of  Charley,  who  was  beginning  to  fag,  they  sat 
down  on  a  log,  and  refreshed  themselves  with  some  of 
the  cold  food. 

"  We  got  to  be  gwine  !  "  cried  Asa,  some  fifteen  minutes 
later. 

He  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  as  the  distant  baying  of  dugs 
fell  faintly  on  his  ear.  All  knew  at  once  that  the  desert- 
ers were  on  their  trail,  and  that  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"  Yuh,  Charley,  you  git  on  my  back,  an'  Mas'  Joe,  you 
foller  behine  me  an'  do  des  what  you  see  me  do,"  said  Asa. 

Catching  the  little  fellow  up  and  putting  him  astride  of 
his  neck,  the  negro  dashed  forward  over  tlie  difficult 
ground,  jumping  from  tussock  to  tussock,  stepping  upon 
roots  and  masses  of  dry  moss,  and  avoiding  every  bit  of 
soft  exposed  earth  where  a  track  would  remain  imprinted. 
Whenever  a  fallen  log  ran  parallel  with  their  course,  he 
sprang  upon  it  and  walked  its  full  length.  Once  he  made 
a  complete  circle,  two  hundred  yards  or  more  in  diameter, 
then,  springiug  forward  upon  a  fallen  log  several  feet  be- 
yond the  limits  of  this  circle,  and  directing  Joe  to  do  like- 
wise, he  pressed  forward  again  over  the  direct  course. 

This  manceuvre  was  intended  to  delay  the  dogs,  and 
perhaps  throw  them  off  the  scent ;  but  before  a  great  while 
it  became  evident  that  it  had  not  succeeded.  For  the 
barking,  instead  of  gradually  subsiding  in  the  distance,  as 
they  had  hoped  it  would,  after  a  short  cessation  became 
more  vigorous  than  before,  and  unmistakably  drew  nearer. 
Ere  long  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  only  a  few  minutes 
could  elapse  before  the  dogs  would  overtake  them. 

"  Will  they  bite  us  ?  "  asked  Charley,  anxiously. 


FLIGHT.  Ill 

"  No,"  said  Joe  ;  "  they  know  us.  What  ought  we  to  do  ? " 
he  continued,  looking  at  Asa,  who  had  come  to  a  halt. 
"  Suppose  we  shoot  them  ?  I  could  load  up  and  shoot 
them  one  by  one.  I  'd  hate  to  do  it,  but  we  have  a  right 
to  do  it." 

Joe  carried  his  gun  and  Charley  his  hatchet.  The  negro 
had  only  a  butcher-knife,  but  it  was  a  sharp  and  dangerous 
weapon,  the  blade  gleaming  brightly  where  it  stuck  in  his 
belt. 

"  Better  let  me  go  fer  'em  wid  dis  knife,"  said  Asa, 
shaking  his  head.  "  You  shoot  dat  gun,  an'  de  'zerters  '11 
know  right  whar  we  is." 

Further  discussion  was  cut  short  by  a  yelp  so  close  in 
their  rear  that  all  knew  the  dogs  would  be  upon  them  in  a 
few  moments.  Bidding  the  boys  conceal  themselves,  Asa 
ran  back  a  few  yards  over  the  trail,  and  took  his  stand 
behind  a  large  pine. 

As  the  foremost  dog,  a  big  ugly  cur,  rushed  past,  the 
negro  leaned  over,  and  with  almost  incredible  quickness, 
seized  the  animal's  ear  with  his  left  hand,  and  with  his 
right  brought  the  long  knife  upward  across  its  throat, 
severing  windpipe  and  jugular  vein  at  a  single  stroke. 
With  a  stifled  cry  in  its  throat,  the  dog  rolled  over  on  the 
ground  and  lay  still,  whereupon  the  four  others  took  to 
their  heels  on  the  backward  track  with  yelps  of  affright. 
There  was  not  a  bloodhound  among  them,  and  they  were 
for  the  most  part  the  commonest  of  piny-woods  curs. 

The  three  fugitives  now  hurried  onward  as  before,  and 
for  an  hour  they  heard  nothing  more  from  the  dogs. 
Finally  a  subdued,  and,  as  it  were,  muffled  yelp  began  to 


112  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

be  heard  at  intervals.  Asa  looked  puzzled  and  several 
times  paused  to  listen,  showing  great  anxiety  when  he 
became  convinced  that  the  sounds  were  drawing  nearer. 
At  last  he  told  Joe  that  he  believed  the  deserters  held  the 
dogs  in  leash,  their  object  being  to  steal  upon  the  unsus- 
pecting fugitives,  who  would  likely  halt  to  rest  in  fancied 
security. 

"  I  bet  dey  're  comin'  like  forty,'"  the  negro  concluded  ; 
"  an'  ef  we  aiu't  mighty  spry,  dey  '11  nab  us  'fo'  we  know 
it." 

"  Can't  we  put  the  dogs  off  the  scent  in  some  way  ? " 
asked  Joe,  looking  about  him. 

They  were  now  in  a  dense  thicket  of  poplars  and  oaks, 
gay  with  the  first  full  leafage  of  spring ;  and  a  hundred 
yards  ahead  the  ground  sloped  downward  and  was  evi- 
dently covered  for  some  distance  with  water. 

"I  believe  we  could 'climb  up  one  of  these  trees  and 
swing  from  limb  to  limb  until  \\q  got  out  yonder  over  that 
water,"  proposed  Joe,  eagerly.  "  Then  we  could  slip  down 
and  wade  as  far  as  the  water  went,  then  climb  up  again, 
and  if  the  trees  are  still  thick  enough,  go  on  a  good  ways. 
That  would  break  the  trail." 

"  You  mighty  right,"  assented  Asa  ;  "  if  only  we  able  to 
do  it.  Maybe  hit  '11  be  easy  enough  for  you  boys,  but 
hit  won't  be  so  easy  for  me." 

"  Let 's  try  it,  anyhow,"  urged  Joe,  and  they  at  once 
began  preparations. 

Charley  stuck  his  hatchet  in  his  belt,  and  with  the  help 
of  Asa,  and  by  means  of  some  stout  twine  found  in  their 
pockets,  Joe  strapped  his  gun  across  his  back.     Asa  having 


FLIGHT.  113 

disposed  of  his  bucket  in  a  similar  way,  and  all  now  hav- 
ing their  hands  and  arms  free,  they  began  the  climb. 

The  youngest,  who  was  light,  active,  and  an  expert  tree- 
climber,  led  the  way.  Lifting  himself  among  the  larger 
branches  of  a  spreading  poplar,  Charley  found  it  compara- 
tively easy  to  walk  out  on  a  lower  limb,  —  while  grasping 
a  higher,  —  until  he  could  lay  hold  of  a  stout,  interlacing 
branch,  and  swing  himself  safely  among  the  larger  arms 
of  a  neighboring  oak. 

Joe  was  probably  sixty  pounds  heavier  tlian  Charley, 
and  found  the  feat  much  more  difficult.  The  limb  which 
had  borne  his  brother's  weight  bent  dangerously  beneath 
his  own  ;  and  when  he  finally  seized  a  branch  of  the  neigh- 
boring tree,  he  grasped  it  so  near  its  terminus  that  he 
swung  halfway  down  to  the  ground,  and  had  not  the  bend- 
ing branch  been  one  of  tough  oak,  it  would  probably  have 
given  way,  and  precipitated  him  to  the  earth. 

Hand  over  hand  the  boy  swung  toward  the  tree's  trunk, 
and  once  there  he  halted  to  catch  his  breath  and  watch 
Asa.  The  negro  might  well  hesitate,  for  he  weighed  nearly 
a  hundred  pounds  more  than  Joe.  After  a  few  tentative 
movements,  he  saw  clearly  that  his  only  hope  was  in  a 
bold  leap  into  the  branches  of  the  neighboring  tree,  trust- 
ing to  the  spreading  of  his  arms  and  legs,  and  to  his  quick, 
firm  grasp  to  arrest  his  descent  to  the  ground. 

The  sound  of  a  muffled  yelp  from  the  dogs,  unmistak- 
ably coming  from  a  point  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away, 
decided  Asa.  He  took  the  dangerous  leap,  and  landed 
among  the  stout  branches  of  the  oak  unharmed,  save  for  a 
few  scratches  and  bruises  which  he  scarcely  felt. 


CHAPTER  XITI. 

THE   BOYS   AKE   LEFT   TO    THEIR   OWN   RESOURCES. 

"  \  T  THY  don't  you  come  on  ? "  called  out  Charley,  who 
•  *  had  rapidly  transported  himself  from  the  second 
tree  to  a  third,  and  from  the  third  to  a  fourth,  imagining, 
with  boyish  vanity,  that  his  superior  speed  was  due  solely 
to  superior  agility. 

Joe  followed  more  slowly  and  warily,  but  surely.  In 
about  ten  minutes,  the  two  boys  had  transported  them- 
selves more  than  a  hundred  yards  without  once  setting 
foot  on  the  ground,  and  were  now  above  the  water. 

"  Don'  wait  fer  me,"  called  out  Asa,  softly,  in  answer  to  a 
low  whistle  from  Joe.  "  Git  down  in  dat  water  an'  go  on 
fas'  ez  you  hin.     I  '11  git  dere  binieby." 

Swinging  themselves  down  from  tlie  tree  in  which  they 
had  halted,  Joe  and  Charley  waded  forward  in  water  var}'- 
ing  in  depth  from  one  to  three  feet.  At  the  end  of  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  the  land  sloped  upward  again, 
and  the  boys  saw  what  was  comparatively  dry  land  ahead 
of  them.  However,  they  were  afraid  to  set  foot  thereon 
as  yet,  and,  climbing  a  tree  (for  the  vegetation  was  almost 
as  dense  where  the  water  stood  as  elsewhere),  they  swung 
themselves  forward  as  before. 

Meanwhile  Asa  was  in  trouble.  After  leaping  success- 
fully three  or  four  times,  he  at  last  —  while  the  boys  w^ere 


BOYS  LEFT   TO    THEIR   OWN  RESOURCES.      115 

wading  forward  in  the  water  —  failed  to  gain  a  firm  hold 
of  the  branches  through  which  his  heavy  body  descended, 
and,  though  his  fall  was  broken,  he  struck  the  ground  with 
great  force,  and  was  for  a  few  moments  considerably 
stunned. 

A  sudden  chorus  of  barks  from  the  rapidly  approaching 
dogs  roused  him  to  action.  Struggling  to  his  feet,  he  laid 
hold  of  the  poplar-tree,  into  which  he  had  attempted  to 
jump,  and  climbed  with  some  difficulty  into  its  branches. 
The  unfortunate  man  felt  that  he  could  not  jump  again, 
and  that  the  only  and  forlorn  resource  open  to  him  was 
to  conceal  himself  as  best  he  could  in  the  foliage  of  the 
tree. 

Scarcely  had  the  trembling  of  the  leaves  and  branches 
subsided,  when  the  pursuers  arrived.  The  party  consisted 
of  Sweet  Jackson,  Bud  Jones,  and  three  others.  They 
held  the  dogs  in  leash,  as  Asa  had  suspected,  but  were 
marching  with  the  greatest  possible  speed.  Reaching  the 
point  where  the  trail  came  to  an  end,  the  dogs  one  and  all 
halted,  snuffing  the  air  in  a  mystified  way,  and  could  not 
be  forced  forward. 

"  They  must  be  round  h-yer  some'rs,"  declared  Sweet 
-Jackson,  in  his  usual  loud,  grating  voice. 

The  two  boys  had  halted  in  the  same  tree  in  order  to 
wait  for  Asa  ;  and,  on  looking  back  and  observing  that  he 
had  not  even  reached  the  water  as  yet,  they  became 
alarmed.  Joe  was  about  to  whistle,  when  he  heard  Jack- 
son's familiar  voice  and  a  moment  later  the  yelps  of  the 
puzzled  dogs. 
.   "  Oh,  now  they  '11  catch  Asa  ! "  cried  Charley. 


116  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  Hush !  "  cautioned  Joe ;  and  then  the  two  remained 
silent,  listening  intently. 

"  Mebby  they  tuck  a  tree,"  the  boys  now  heard  one  of 
the  men  suggest. 

A  silence  followed,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  members 
of  the  party  had  separated  and  were  scanning  the  neigh- 
boring tree-tops.  Suddenly  one  of  the  dogs  began  to  bay, 
and  a  few  moments  later.  Bud  Jones'  voice  was  heard,  — 

"  H-yers  one  of  'em  up  this  tree  ! " 

The  dog  had  snuffed  the  spot  where  he  fell  on  the 
ground,  and  poor  Asa  was  discovered.  "  It 's  the  nigger," 
added  Jones. 

"  Shoot  'im,  if  he  don't  git  down  from  thar  quick,"  cried 
Jackson,  savagely. 

Instantly  the  branches  of  the  poplar  began  to  tremble, 
and  Asa  descended  with  all  speed. 

"  Now  whar  's  them  two  boys  ?  "  demanded  several  at 
once,  as  the  negro  was  roughly  seized,  and  his  hands  tied 
behind  his  back. 

"  Who  me  ?  I  dunno  w'ere  dey  is,"  declared  Asa. 

A  chorus  of  angry  curses  greeted  this  speech. 

"  My  hands  jes'  eech  to  git  a  hold  o'  you,"  cried  the 
truculent  Jackson.  "  £f  you  was  n't  Bubber's  nigger  an' 
he  told  me  not  to  beat  you,  I  'd  break  ever'  bone  in  yo' 
body.      Wliur  is  them  boys  ? " 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  stammered  Asa,  determined  not  to 
give  the  boys  up  if  it  could  possibly  be  avoided.  "  All 
I  know  is  dey 's  a  fur  ways  f  am  yuh.  Dey  got  lost  fum  me 
'way  back  yonder  w'ere  we  fout  de  dogs." 

Ejaculations  of  incredulity  greeted  this  falsehood,  and  Asa 


BOYS  LEFT   TO    THEIR   OWN  RESOURCES.      117 

was  threatened  with  direful  and  immediate  punishment  if 
he  did  not  tell  the  truth ;  but  he  stuck  to  his  story  and 
finally  it  carried  conviction,  although  his  captors  beat  the 
neighboring  brush  for  half  an  hour,  endeavoring;  in  vain  to 
start  the  dogs. 

"  That  was  Eafe  Wheeler's  dog,  you  killed  an'  I  reckon 
he  '11  send  you  to  see  old  Nick  before  he 's  done  with  you," 
was  the  last  threatening  speech  addressed  to  Asa  which  the 
boys  overheard ;  and  shortly  afterwards  they  felt  convinced, 
from  the  few  and  faint  sounds  reaching  them,  that  captors 
and  captive  were  marching  backward  over  the  trail. 

"  I  'm  so  sorry  they  caught  Asa ;  they  '11  beat  him,  " 
whispered  Charley,  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  Joe.  "  Just  wait  until  I  guide  a 
company  of  soldiers  in  here,  then  Asa  '11  be  revenged." 

By  this  time  it  was  high -noon,  and  being  no  longer  in 
fear  of  immediate  capture,  the  boys  had  leisure  to  discover 
that  they  were  very  tired  and  hungry.  But  they  well 
knew  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost;  and,  as  soon  as  they 
had  eaten  what  remained  of  the  cold  meat  and  bread  given 
them  by  Asa,  they  descended  from  the  tree  and  pushed 
forward. 

Soon  after  they  had  penetrated  the  jungle  that  morning 
the  trail  gradually  faded,  until  Asa  doubted  whether  they 
had  really  found  it  in  the  first  place ;  and  after  the  dogs 
were  heard  on  their  track,  the  negro  made  no  further  effort 
to  follow  it,  but  pushed  rapidly  ahead  in  the  general  direc- 
tion taken,  choosing  the  most  open  and  passable  ground. 
This  was  Joe's  plan  now. 

Toward  mid-afternoon  the  ground  began  slowly  to  rise 


118  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

before  tlieu),  and  the  forest  growth  to  become  less  and  less 
dense,  until  finally  they  emerged  from  the  low  jungle 
region,  and  found  themselves  on  an  open  pine  ridge  where 
the  ground  was  covered  with  wire-grass  and  dotted  with 
clumps  of  fan-palmettos.  They  believed  they  were  now 
clear  of  the  swamp ;  and  Charley  was  in  the  act  of  exclaim- 
ing in  his  delight,  when  Joe  stopped  him. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  the  elder  boy,  —  "  look  yonder." 

He  pointed  out  a  large,  full-grown  black  bear  about  two 
hundred  yards  away.  The  animal  was  engaged  in  pulling 
up  young  palmetto  shoots  and  eating  the  sweet  and  tender 
part  near  the  root.  After  each  pull  it  would  rear  up  on  its 
hind-legs  and  look  cautiously  over  the  tops  of  the  jDalmettos 
in  every  direction.  And  so,  no  sooner  had  the  boys  seen  the 
bear,  than  tlie  bear  saw  the  boys,  and  bolted  precipitately 
into  the  palmetto  brush  before  Joe  had  quite  levelled  liis 
gun. 

"  I  smell  smoke,"  said  Charley,  suddenly. 

They  liad  now  tramped  out  into  the  open  pine  woods 
some  half  a  mile,  and  the  wind  which  blew  into  their  faces 
wafted  a  distinctly  smoky  odor,  suggesting  a  forest  fire. 
The  probability  of  this  was  presently  confirmed  by  the 
sight  of  birds,  insects,  and  here  and  there  an  animal,  as  a 
deer,  a  fox,  squirrel,  or  a  skunk,  making  rapidly  toward 
the  swamp. 

"  Somebody  must  be  burnin'  off  the  woods  for  the  cattle," 
said  Joe.  "If  that's  what  it  means,  we  are  certainly  out 
of  the  swamp  at  last." 

He  referred  to  the  common  practice  among  the  settlers  of 
the   backwoods   borderiufr   the  Okefenokee  of   firing  the 


BOYS  LEFT   TO   THEIR    OWN  RESOURCES.      119 

woods  in  spriug,  in  order  to  destroy  the  year's  crop  of 
tough  brown  wire-grass,  and  so  give  place  to  a  tender 
oreen  growth  on  which  the  cattle  might  feed  to  better 
advantage. 

In  a  short  time  the  boys  began  to  see  the  fire  here  and 
there,  and  ere  long  they  were  confronted  by  an  unbroken 
barrier  of  flame  extending  across  the  whole  ridge.  Their 
position  was  becoming  every  moment  more  dangerous,  and 
Joe  looked  about  him  with  some  anxiety.  The  swamp 
half  a  mile  behind  them  was  a  certain  refuge,  and  he  cal- 
culated that  they  could  easily  reach  it  ahead  of  the  fire,  but 
he  was  reluctant  to  turn  back.  While  hesitating,  his  eye 
fell  upon  a  small  cypress  pond,  about  three  hundred  yards 
to  the  left ;  and  he  immediately  started  toward  it  on  a  run, 
calling  on  Charley  to  follow. 

Joe  felt  sure  that,  even  if  there  were  no  water  in  the 
pond,  the  fire  would  not  penetrate  it.  "Pond"  is  hardly 
the  word  to  apply  to  these  little  groves  of  several  dozen 
cypresses  which  are  so  frequently  found  in  the  pine  barrens, 
although  they  always  stand  on  low,  swampy  ground,  which 
in  wet  weather  is  likely  to  be  covered  with  a  foot  or  two  of 
water.  A  small  puddle,  about  twenty  feet  in  diameter, 
was  found  in  the  centre  of  this  one,  but  the  boys  did  not 
wade  into  it.  As  soon  as  they  stood  among  the  cypress 
"  knees  "  and  trod  upon  damp  ground,  they  felt  safe. 

Unlike  the  banyan-tree,  which  sends  branches  down- 
ward to  take  root,  the  cypress  lifts  its  bulky  parasite  up- 
ward, in  the  form  of  what  is  locally  termed  a  "  knee."  In 
the  submerged  swamps  the  boatman  finds  it  necessary  to 
look  out  for  these  very  carefully,  as  they  are  often  hidden 


120  IX   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

just  below  the  surface,  and  are  as  dangerous  as  unseen 
rocks. 

During  a  few  moments,  hot  smoke  filled  the  space  sur- 
rounding the  boys  and  almost  stilled  them ;  but  the  fire 
itself  merely  burned  round  the  edges  of  the  pond  and  then 
passed  on  its  roaring  way,  the  wind  soon  clearing  the  atmos- 
phere. After  waiting  some  little  time  for  the  ashes  to  cool, 
the  boys  emerged  from  their  retreat  and  picked  their  way 
across  the  blackened  ground. 

The  wire-grass  had  entirely  disappeared  before  the 
devouring  flames,  but  the  pines  and  scrub-oaks  stood  for  the 
most  part  intact.  Here  and  there  some  fallen  and  well- 
seasoned  log  still  burned  vigorously,  and  in  a  few  instances, 
fire  had  run  up  on  the  oozing  sap  to  the  tops  of  the  tallest 
pines. 

Joe  and  Charley  tramped  over  the  blackened  and  heated 
earth  a  distance  of  about  a  mile  and  a  lialf,  hoping  ere 
long  to  discover  the  shanty  of  some  settler.  But  when  at 
last  they  reached  a  "  hammock  "  growth,  and  descended 
through  it  to  the  borders  of  a  vast  prairie  or  marsh,  in 
every  respect  similar  to  the  one  adjoining  Deserters'  Island, 
this  pleasing  hope  was  given  over  with  sighs  of  regret. 

It  was  now  perfectly  clear  that  they  w^ere  still  within  the 
borders  of  the  great  Okefenokee,  and  that  they  had  just 
traversed  one  of  its  many  islands  or  portions  of  elevated 
land.  The  origin  of  tlie  fire  puzzled  Joe  greatly  at  first ; 
but  he  concluded,  with  reason,  that  some  hunter,  or  some 
one  of  the  deserters,  had  recently  been  there,  and  the  neg- 
lect of  this  person  or  persons  to  put  out  tlie  camp-fire  had 
resulted  in  the  present  extended  conflagration. 


BOYS  LEFT   TO    THEIR   OWN  RESOURCES.      121 

"  It 's  goiug  to  rain,"  said  Joe,  suddenly,  looking  up  at 
the  sky  now  rapidly  darkening  with  clouds ;  "  and  we  'd 
better  fix  some  way  to  camp  right  away." 

A  favorable  spot  on  the  outskirts  of  the  hammock 
was  chosen,  and  they  hurriedly  erected  a  "  brush  tent," 
similar  to  one  or  two  which  they  had  seen  constructed 
during  their  stay  among  the  deserters.  A  slender  sapling 
was  cut  down  and  lashed  at  either  end  with  bear-grass 
thongs  to  two  trees  about  ten  feet  apart.  Against  this 
cross-bar,  which  was  about  four  feet  from  the  ground,  eight 
or  ten  other  saplings  were  leaned  at  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees,  and  less  than  a  foot  apart.  Over  these 
were  then  arranged  upwards  of  one  hundred  palmetto  fans, 
cut  within  a  few  feet  of  the  spot,  thus  forming  a  thatch, 
which  was  protected  against  gusts  of  wind  by  two  or  three 
other  saplings  laid  diagonally  across.  Such  a  palmetto- 
thatched  lean-to  provides  a  fairly  good  shelter,  as  long  as 
the  wind  blows  at  the  back  against  the  thatch,  and  not 
into  the  open  front. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  the  work  was  finished,  but  it 
had  not  yet  begun  to  rain.  While  Charley  now  gathered 
wood  for  their  camp-fire,  Joe  took  his  gun  and  stole  off 
into  the  woods,  hoping  to  kill  something  for  supper.  He 
had  scarcely  advanced  three  hundred  yards,  when  he  saw  a 
large  bird  fly  through  the  tree-tops  and  alight  on  a 
branch  within  easy  range. 

Joe  fired,  and  the  game  dropped.  When  found  and 
brought  out  into  the  open  pines,  where  the  light  had  not 
yet  entirely  failed,  the  boy  was  delighted  to  discover  that 
he  had  shot  a  wild  turkev. 


122  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Some  moss  and  brush  having  been  gathered,  and  spread 
on  the  ground  in  the  acute  angle  of  the  lean-to,  and  por- 
tions of  the  turkey  having  been  broiled  with  fair  success 
on  glowing  coals  raked  out  of  the  fire,  the  boys  satisfied 
their  hunger,  and  lay  down  with  a  feeling  of  comfort 
which  seemed  hardly  in  keeping  with  their  continuing 
misfortunes,  and  which  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  les- 
sened by  the  harmless  patter  of  the  rain-drops  on  the 
thatch  over  their  heads. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

LAND   OF   THE   "  TREMBLING   EARTH." 

IN  the  early  morning  tliey  were  awakened  by  the  rain 
falling  on  their  faces,  and  found  their  erstwhile  dry 
and  cosey  retreat  now  thoroughly  wet  and  uncomfortable. 
Not  only  did  water  percolate  through  the  hastily  con- 
structed thatch,  but,  the  wind  having  clianged,  the  rain 
now  beat  in  from  the  front.  A  slow,  steady  downfall  had 
evidently  continued  throughout  the  night. 

"  It's  a  set-in  rain,  and  we  're  goin'  to  have  a  hard  time 
of  it,"  said  Joe,  ruefully. 

It  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  and  after  pro- 
longed effort  that  they  succeeded  in  building  a  fire,  and  by 
the  time  the  remainder  of  the  turkey,  which  had  been 
hung  out  of  the  reach  of  marauding  animals  the  night 
before,  had  been  cooked  and  eaten,  it  was  late  in  the 
morning. 

What  to  do  next  was  the  vexing  question.  Even  the 
night  before,  Joe  had  been  troubled  to  answer.  He  dis- 
liked to  turn  back,  fearing  a  possible  encounter  with  a 
pursuing  party  of  the  deserters ;  but  the  prairie  barred 
further  progress,  unless  the  boys  were  willing  to  take  the 
great  risks  involved  in  wading  it,  —  through  mud,  slime, 
mosses,  rushes,  "bonnets,"  and  what  not,  the  water  being 
in  many  places  over  their  heads. 


124  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  Let 's  try  it,  Charley,"  Joe  proposed  at  last.  "  We  are 
wet  to  the  skin  anyhow  ;  and  if  we  can't  wade  across,  we 
can  come  back  here,  that 's  all.  If  we  once  get  across  that 
prairie,  I  don't  think  it  will  take  us  long  to  find  our  way 
out  of  the  swamp." 

The  younger  boy  expressed  his  willingness  to  follow 
wherever  the  elder  might  lead,  and  preparations  for  the 
trying  trip  were  at  once  begun.  Both  boys  were  good 
pwimmers ;  but  Joe  was  too  wise  to  venture  on  a  flooded 
marsh  of  unknown  depth  without  some  safeguard.  As 
they  had  no  boat,  and  would  probably  be  unable  to  float 
a  raft,  even  if  one  could  be  successfully  constructed,  he 
decided  to  take  with  them  a  section  of  a  tree,  to  which 
they  might  cling,  in  case  they  should  advance  beyond  their 
depth,  and  be  unable  to  swim  on  account  of  the  mosses, 
etc.,  with  which  the  marsh  water  at  so  many  points  was 
crowded. 

After  considerable  search  Joe  found  a  dead  pine  which 
had  broken  into  parts  in  its  fall  before  a  wind  storm.  A 
section  of  this,  about  fifteen  feet  long  and  a  little  more 
than  a  foot  in  diameter,  was  chosen.  Having  provided 
Charley  and  himself  with  a  light  slender  pole  some  twelve 
feet  in  length,  and  strapped  the  gun,  hatchet,  powder-horn, 
shot-pouch,  etc.,  between  two  short  up-reaching  branches 
of  the  log,  although  this  promised  to  be  almost  a  useless 
precaution  as  long  as  it  rained,  the  boys  proceedejl,  and 
not  without  considerable  difficulty,  to  launch  what  Joe 
termed  their  "  life-preserv^er." 

While  they  were  accomplishing  this  task,  Charley  made 
his  first   acquaintance   with   the   great   curiosity   of    the 


LAND   OF  THE   '' TREMBLING  EARTH."        125 

Okefenokee,  which  may  be  seen  along  the  shores  of  almost 
all  the  islands  within  or  bordering  the  prairies.  Stepping 
off  from  the  island  shore,  the  little  boy  walked  forward 
upon  a  seeming  continuation  of  the  land,  —  a  mass  of  float- 
ing vegetable  forms,  intermingled  with  moss  drift  and 
slime,  forming  a  compact  floor  capable  of  sustaining  his 
weight,  which,  although  it  did  not  at  once  break  through 
beneath  him,  could  be  seen  to  sink  and  rise  at  every  step 
for  twenty  feet  around. 

"  Why,  this  ground  moves!"  cried  Charley,  astonished. 

"  You  'd  better  look  out ! "  cried  Joe.  "  It  won 't  hold 
you  up  much  longer.  It 's  not  ground  at  all ;  it 's  floating 
moss  and  stuff —  " 

The  speaker  paused  suddenly,  as  Charley  now  broke 
through,  and  stood  in  mud  and  water  nearly  up  to  his 
waist. 

"The  deserters  call  that  moss  and  stuff  'floating 
batteries,'  "  continued  Joe.  "  I  don't  know  where  they  got 
such  a  funny  name.  Father  knew  about  these  places,  and 
he  said  the  Indians  called  them  '  trembling  earth.' 
That 's  what  the  name  of  the  swamp  means,  — '  Okefe- 
nokee,' or  '  trembling  earth.' " 

Once  they  had  dragged  their  "  life-preserver  "  over  the 
"floating  batteries,"  or  "trembling  earth,"  the  boys  made 
better  progress,  although  they  still  had  to  contend  with 
a  submerged  slimy  moss  of  a  green  color  {sjoliagnum)  and 
a  great  variety  of  crowding  rushes.  As  they  staggered 
along,  dragging  the  log,  now  only  up  to  their  knees  in 
water,  now  bogging  in  the  yielding  ooze  till  the  water 
rose  above  their  waists,  they  were  for  a  time  much  annoyed 


126  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

by  a  little  black  bug  haunting  the  sedge,  which  stung  like 
a  wasp. 

The  clouds  still  dropped  a  slow  drizzle,  and  a  mist  lay 
upon  the  great  marsh,  in  which  the  many  little  islands, 
clothed  in  dun-colored  vegetation,  loomed  up  in  dim, 
uncertain  outlines.  As  he  looked  toward  them,  Joe 
remarked  that  he  had  heard  the  deserters  call  the  islands 
"  houses,"  but  that  to  him  they  now  rather  suggested  huge 
phantom  ships. 

Many  cranes,  herons,  and  "  poor-jobs  "  had  already  risen 
at  their  approach  and  disappeared  in  the  mist;  and  as  they 
advanced  farther  out  on  the  marsh  where  the  water  deep- 
ened and  the  sedge  began  to  thin  and  to  be  succeeded  by 
"  bonnets,"  large  flocks  of  ducks  flew  up,  and  occasionally 
a  curlew  skimmed  across  their  course. 

Passing  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  one  of  the  little 
islands,  they  noted  that  it  was  gi'own  up  at  the  edges  \vith 
low  "casina"  bushes,  and  that  other  vegetation  sloped 
gradually  up  to  two  or  three  tall  cypresses  in  the  centre, 
the  whole  being  drearily  decorated  with  trailing  drifts  of 
gray  Spanish  moss,  intensifying  "the  already  weird  aspect. 

"  It  looks  like  a  big  circus  tent,"  said  Charley. 

The  water  still  deepened  ;  and  ere  long  they  were  obliged 
to  swim,  Joe  with  his  left  arm  thrown  over  the  forwaixl 
end  of  the  log,  and  Charley  with  his  right  resting  on  the 
rear  end.  A  few  hundred  yards  further  on  they  entered 
an  open  and  perceptible  current  flowing  almost  at  right 
angles  to  their  course. 

"  Let 's  follow  this,"  proposed  Joe.  "  It  will  be  so  much 
easier  to  carry  the  log." 


LAND   OF   THE  "TREMBLING  EARTH."        127 

So  they  swam  on,  floating  their  log  with  the  gentle 
current  which  flowed  narrowly  between  the  bordering 
"  bonnets,"  little  dreaming  that  they  were  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  famed  Suwanee  Eiver. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  startled  at  sight  of  a  large 
turtle,  more  than  three  feet  in  length,  floating  lazily  on 
the  water  as  if  asleep ;  and  as  it  sunk  out  of  sight  Joe 
began  to  feel  some  apprehension,  recollecting  that  the 
deserters  had  said  the  prairies  were  full  of  "  'gator-holes." 

How  far  they  travelled,  floating  on  this  current,  they 
hardly  knew,  being  unable  to  see  landmarks  for  any  dis- 
tance. As  soon  as  one  of  the  ghostly  little  islands  floated 
past  and  disappeared  in  the  mist,  another  would  be  out- 
lined in  their  front,  and,  being  so  much  alike,  the  effect 
was  very  confusing.  It  was  difficult  to  estimate  either 
the  distance  they  had  traversed  or  the  time  that  had 
elapsed. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  cold  and  tired  and  hungry ! "  protested 
Charley  at  last,  and  begged  that  they  might  land  on  the 
next  "  house." 

Accordingly,  as  soon  as  they  were  opposite  another 
island,  Joe  struck  out  toward  it  through  the  "bonnets" 
and  sedge,  dragging  the  log  after  him.  In  this  Avay  they 
came  presently  into  a  little  round  open  pool  about  a 
hundred  feet  in  diameter,  heedless  of  several  dark  floating 
objects  a  short  distance  ahead.  Suddenly  the  water  about 
them  became  curiously  agitated,  and  with  a  cry  of  horror 
Joe  looked  toward  Charley. 

"  Jump  up  on  the  log  !  "  he  said.  "  We  're  in  a  'gator- 
hole." 


128  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Neither  of  them  could  afterward  have  told  how  they 
did  it ;  but  almost  in  a  moment  both  stood  on  the  log 
"balancing  themselves  with  their  long  poles,  which  were 
thrust  down  to  the  bottom,  the  water  being  only  about 
seven  feet  in  depth.  Under  their  weight  the  log  sank  so 
low  that  it  was  almost  entirely  submerged,  and  the  position 
of  the  two  boys  was  little  improved,  supposing  they  were 
to  be  attacked. 

The  pool  now  seemed  alive  with  alligators,  large  and 
small,  for  fifty  feet  around;  and  the  boys  were  greatly  ter- 
rified, although  the  huge  scaly  creatures  still  lay  quiet  on 
the  water  or  swam  lazily  about,  gazing  at  the  intruders 
with  their  black,  lustreless  eyes. 

"  They  're  going  to  eat  us  up ! "  gasped  poor  Charley, 
hardly  able  to  maintain  his  upright  position. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  said  Joe,  iu  a  low  voice,  although  des- 
perately afraid  himself.  "  They  don't  look  as  if  they  wanted 
to  hurt  us.     See  how  quiet  they  are." 

He  then  suggested  that  they  pole  the  log  out  of  its  dan- 
gerous neighborhood,  and  this  they  did  very  slowly  and 
cautiously,  lifting  their  long  sticks  halfway  out  of  the 
water  and  guardedly  thrusting  them  to  the  bottom  again. 
Although  they  passed  within  a  few  inches  of  some  of  the 
reptiles  in  the  course  of  their  retreat,  the  latter  were  not 
roused  from  their  sleepy  indifl'erence,  and  permitted  an 
easy  prey  to  escape  them. 

There  are  doubtless  many  thrilling  alligator  stories  which 
are  vouched  for  on  "  good  authority ; "  but  it  is  a  fact  that 
the  species  found  in  Southern  Georgia  and  Florida  have 
been  rarely  known  to  attack  man  except  in  self-defence. 


LAND   OF   THE   «  TREMBLING  EARTHS       129 

Shortly  after  leaving  the  alligator-hole  the  boys  entered 
shallower  water,  and  soon  waded  to  the  shores  of  the  little 
"  house  "  or  island.  Leaving  their  log  safely  lodged  on  the 
"trembling  earth  "  formation,  and  having  struggled  through 
and  over  the  same,  they  landed  on  firm  but  damp  and 
spongy  ground.  The  island  was  circular  in  form  and 
hardly  two  hundred  yards  in  diameter.  Casina  bushes 
fringed  the  shores,  the  vegetation  gradually  rising  thence 
to  a  few  tall  cypresses  in  the  centre.  Everywhere  the 
funereal  Spanish  moss  fluttered  in  the  breeze. 

It  had  now  ceased  raining  ;  but  a  dense  mist  still  floated 
upon  the  great  marsh.  The  raw  atmosphere  was  no  less 
cold  than  the  water  had  been ;  and  the  boys  moved  about 
shivering  and  most  forlorn,  bitterly  regretting  their  attempt 
to  cross  the  prairie.  The  wildness  and  desolation  of  the 
scene  was  in  a  manner  intensified  by  the  presence  of  two 
small  gray  eagles,  which  screamed  in  a  harsh,  shrill  way,  as 
they  hovered  about  a  large  nest  in  the  top  of  the  only  pine- 
tree  on  the  island. 

The  extreme  weariness  of  their  bodies  and  their  sharp 
hunger  were  the  only  certain  indications  of  the  flight  of 
time  ;  but  as  the  light  began  to  wane,  the  boys  realized  that 
they  had  been  on  the  marsh  many  hours  and  had  not 
landed  on  the  island  till  late  in  the  afternoon. 

It  was  now  necessary  to  make  some  preparation  for  the 
night,  and  that  speedily.  An  attempt  to  build  a  fire  had 
failed  completely,  the  wet  matches  refusing  even  to  ignite, 
and  as  the  gun  and  ammunition  were  also  wet,  there  was 
no  hope  of  obtaining  even  the  raw  flesh  of  a  bird  for  sup- 
per, supposing  they  could  have  eaten  it. 


130  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  If  we  ouly  had  a  fire,"  sobbed  Charley,  shivering,  "  I 
would  n't  mind  being  hungry." 

The  poor  little  fellow's  distress  was  presently  further 
increased  by  dread  of  snakes.  As  Joe  moved  about  mak- 
ing preparations  for  the  night,  he  very  nearly  stepped  on  a 
large  moccasin,  which  he  succeeded  in  killing  with  a  long 
stick.  It  was  an  unusually  large  one,  probably  measuring 
not  less  than  eight  inches  around  the  middle,  and  doubtless 
the  mother  of  a  numerous  progeny. 

Joe  had  often  heard  the  deserters  describe  how  they 
made  shift  for  the  night  when  caught  out  on  the  prairie  or 
on  a  damp  tussock  in  the  flooded  forests,  and  he  now  pro- 
ceeded to  strip  bark  off  the  cypress-trees  with  the  aid  of 
Charley's  hatchet.  This  was  spread  on  the  wet  ground  to 
lie  upon,  and  a  quantity  of  the  Spanish  moss  was  gathered 
to  cover  with.  The  latter  was  damp,  —  in  fact,  water- 
soaked  ;  but  even  so  they  would  be  warmer  covered  with 
it  than  if  they  lay  exposed  to  the  currents  of  raw  air. 

These  preparations  were  hardly  complete  when  it  began 
to  grow  dark.  Joe  thought  they  ought  to  remain  awake 
and  keep  their  bodies  in  something  of  motion  all  niglit,  in 
order  to  prevent  taking  severe  colds,  but  they  were  both 
too  weary  to  persevere  in  such  efforts.  Sitting  on  the 
cypress  bark  and  leaning  their  backs  against  a  tree,  the 
wet  moss  drawn  up  over  their  bodies,  they  soon  subsided 
into  quiet  of  limb  and  tongue,  and  after  a  time  fell  into 
troubled,  dream-haunted  slumber. 

"  We  '11  never  get  liome,"  sobbed  Charley,  wliile  still 
they  talked.     "  We  '11  starve  to  death  in  this  swamp." 

Joe  made  no  reply  at  once.     He  was  thinking  how  dif- 


LAND   OF   THE  "  TREMBLING  EARTH."        131 

fereut  had  been  the  experience  of  Eobinson  Crusoe  and 
other  heroes  of  romance  who  had  been  wrecked  on  unknown 
islands  or  lost  in  desolate  places.  None  of  these,  he 
thought,  had  ever  suffered  such  continuing  miseries  of  body 
and  mind  as  were  now  his  and  Charley's  portion.  The 
hardships  suffered  by  such  as  Eobinson  Crusoe  were  indeed 
severe ;  but  there  seemed  to  be  always  a  wreck  at  hand 
with  plenty  of  good  things  on  board  to  eat,  and  the  cast- 
aways could  at  least  manage  to  sleep  warm  and  dry. 

"  I  hope  not,  Charley,"  responded  the  elder  boy,  cutting 
off" this  train  of  thought;  "but  if  we  do  starve  to  death,  it 
will  be  all  for  the  best,  as  father  would  say." 

Joe  was  perhaps  never  more  acutely  miserable  in  his 
life  than  now,  and  had  he  been  alone  his  soul  could  scarcely 
have  risen  above  the  trying  surroundings ;  but  the  con- 
sciousness that  his  little  brother,  one  weaker  than  himself, 
was  suffering  as  much,  perhaps  more,  than  he,  roused  in 
him  a  manly  fortitude. 

"  We  '11  come  out  all  right  in  a  few^  days,"  he  said,  with 
forced  cheerfulness.  "But  if  we  don't  —  well,"  he  added, 
solemnly,  "  this  world  is  not  everything.  If  we  have  to 
leave  this  one,  we  go  right  into  another  one ;  we  can  never 
really  die.  That 's  what  father  says,  and  he  knows.  He 
said  Socrates  said,  '  no  evil  can  befall  a  good  man,  whether 
he  be  alive  or  dead.'  That  means,  if  we  are  honest  and 
truthful  and  manly,  and  never  want  to  harm  anybody, 
we  're  all  right,  whatever  happens.  But  if  we  are  mean 
and  selfish  and  untruthful,  and  love  to  injure  other  people, 
all  the  riches  in  the  world  can't  help  us  or  make  us  men. 

"  I  once  heard  father  say,"  Joe  continued,  "  that  every 


132  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

misfortune  will  in  some  way  at  last  really  be  a  blessing  to 
the  sufferer;  and  I  thought  how  wonderful  that  was. 
Father  said  misfortune  had  made  him  a  better  man.  And 
he  told  me  once  that  it  did  n't  matter  so  much  what  we 
were  in  the  world,  whether  rich  or  poor,  or  what  happened 
to  us ;  what  did  matter  was  whether  we  always  thought 
and  intended  to  be,  and  were,  honorable  and  just.  He 
said  that  was  the  great  thing.  If  we  do  that,  nothing  can 
hurt  us." 

"  Even  if  the  alligators  or  a  panther  was  to  eat  us  ? ' 
asked  Charley. 

"  Even  then,"  was  the  answer  with  a  shudder. 

"  But,  oh,  Joe,  it  would  hurt ! 

"  Not  as  much  as  you  think.  Father  said  if  I  were  to 
fall  over  a  high  precipice  I  would  become  unconscious 
before  I  struck  the  ground,  and  I  think  it  would  be  just 
that  way  if  a  panther  were  to  jump  on  you ;  before  he 
really  began  to  eat  you,  you  would  n't  know  anything." 

Whether  it  was  the  result  of  this  comforting  philosophy 
or  of  sheer  physical  exhaustion  was  not  clear  ;  but  Charley 
presently  became  quiet  and  soon  after  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A   "DESERT   INACCESSIBLE." 

JOE,  however,  remained  awake  a  long  while  listening  to 
a  curious  recurring  sound  out  on  the  marsh,  suggesting 
the  harsh  clank  of  two  pieces  of  sheet-iron  when  precipi- 
tated the  one  against  the  other,  which,  as  he  learned  after- 
ward, was  made  by  sand-hill  cranes  when  frightened  and 
forced  to  shift  their  positions.  The  wakeful  boy  could  not 
account  for  it,  and  it  added  no  little  to  the  misery  of  his 
situation.  Another  occasional  sound  troubled  him  less,  —  a 
hoarse  bellowing  which  he  supposed  to  come  from  the  alli- 
gators. When  at  last  he  slept,  it  was  only  to  dream  of 
moccasins  and  alligators,  and  a  nameless,  shapeless  monster 
out  on  the  marsh  with  a  metallic  gong  in  its  throat. 

As  the  first  gray  light  of  morning  struggled  through  the 
mist  still  enveloping  the  marsh,  Joe  started  up  and  looked 
about  him.  His  attention  was  at  once  attracted  to  a  white 
sand-hill  crane  fully  five  feet  in  height  standing  on  a  point 
of  the  island  about  fifty  yards  distant. 

Seizing  his  long  stick,  the  boy  crept  toward  the  fowl 
behind  the  screen  offered  by  the  casina  bushes.  He  hoped 
to  knock  it  down,  conjecturing  that  even  the  fishy  flesh  of 
a  crane  would  be  palatable  to  one  half  starved.  But  the 
wary  bird  spread  its  wings  and  flew  away  in  the  mist  long 
before  Joe  was  near  enough  to  use  his  weapon. 


134  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

The  boys  both  found  themselves  suffering  with  sore 
throat  and  their  limbs  felt  cramped  and  numb  ;  but  they 
were  a  good  deal  rested  and  their  desire  for  food  was  less 
active  than  the  night  before.  On  the  whole,  they  felt  bet- 
ter and  were  eager  to  go  forward  and  try  to  improve  their 
condition.  Joe  remarked  that  if  he  could  only  see  the 
island  they  had  left  the  day  before,  he  would  "go  right 
back "  there ;  but  if  they  attempted  it  in  the  fog,  a  tliou- 
sand  chances  to  one  they  would  go  astray,  and  he  thought 
they  had  better  take  the  risk  of  pushing  forward.     • 

So  they  struggled througli  the  "trembling"  and  breaking 
"earth"  surrounding  the  island,  got  their  log  afloat,  pushed 
out  into  the  little  stream,  and  swam  with  the  current  as  on 
the  day  before.  Although  their  exertions  soon  began  to 
tell  on  them,  weak  for  the  want  of  food  as  they  were,  the 
boys  pushed  forward  heroically  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  landing  two  or  three  times  on  the  dreary  and 
inhospitable  "  houses." 

One  incident  of  importance  occurring  on  tliat  trying  day 
may  be  mentioned.  Toward  noon,  while  swimming  with 
one  arm  over  the  end  of  the  log;  Charley's  feet  and  legs 
became  entangled  in  the  rushes;  and,  losing  his  hold,  he 
was  drawn  beneath  the  water  just  as  a  faint  cry  escaped 
him.  Joe  looked  back  in  time  to  see  him  go  down,  and, 
swimming  to  his  aid,  succeeded  after  considerable  difficulty 
in  extricating  him,  though  not  until  he  had  swallowed  sev- 
eral gulps  of  water  and  was  pretty  badly  strangled. 

Meanwliile  the  log  had  floated  with  the  current,  and 
lodged  among  the  "  bonnets "  about  two  hundred  yards 
down  stream,  and  this  distance  Joe  was  obliged  to  swim 


A    '' DESERT  INACCESSIBLE."  135 

without  artificial  aid,  supporting  his  helpless  little  brother. 
The  last  few  yards  was  the  sceue  of  a  desperate  struggle  to 
keep  above  water  until  the  log  could  be  grasped.  After 
this  the  boys  were  forced  to  land  and  rest  on  the  nearest 
island,  which  fortunately  was  not  far  away. 

That  night  was  spent,  like  the  preceding,  on  a  "  house," 
and,  if  possible,  was  yet  more  uncomfortable.  They  M^ere 
agaiu  unable  to  start  a  fire,  and  lay  down  as  before  on 
cypress  bark,  covered  with  the  damp  moss.  The  pangs  of 
hunger  were  now  extremely  painful ;  and  though  he  made 
a  brave  effort,  Joe  found  himself  unable  to  take  the  same 
comfort  in  his  father's  philosophy  as  on  the  previous  night, 
or  to  soothe  poor  little  Charley  with  as  much  success. 
But  he  could  at  least  express  tenderness  and  sympathy, 
and  he  held  his  sobbing  brother  tightly  in  his  arms  for  a 
long  while. 

"Never  mind,  darling,  never  mind  !  "  he  whispered  again 
and  again,  —  a  demonstration  of  affection  of  which,  perhaps, 
he  would  have  been  ashamed  in  happier  times. 

The  morning  of  the  third  day  dawned  bright  and  clear. 
Not  a  vestige  of  the  fog  was  to  be  seen  anywhere  on  the 
great  marsh.  Although  they  now  felt  weak  and  ill,  their 
eyes  ran  water,  and  their  heads  throbbed  with  fever  and 
headache,  the  bnys  felt  cheered  by  this  change.  In  every 
direction  but  one  they  were  unable  to  see  anything  but  an 
expanse  of  marsh  dotted  with  "  houses ; "  but  in  that  one 
direction  they  clearly  discerned,  not  more  than  two  or 
three  miles  away,  a  wall  of  green  pines,  indicating  the 
presence  of  a  large  island  or  mainland.  With  great  de- 
light they  noted  also  that  the  intervening  marsh,  though 


136  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

covered  with  water  Iq  places,  was  not  of  a  character  to 
necessitate  swimming. 

Lifted  high  with  hope,  they  started  eagerly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  green  wall  of  pines,  soon  finding,  however,  that 
it  was  no  child's  play  to  cross  this  portion  of  the  marsh, 
scantily  covered  with  water  though  it  might  be.  For  it 
was  in  great  part  a  treacherous  quagmire,  and  the  boys 
sometimes  sank  down  suddenly  in  the  mud  to  their  arm- 
pits. Once  Charley  bogged  up  to  his  neck,  and  nothing 
but  his  long  stick  saved  him.  They  had  left  their  log 
l)ehind,  but  fortunately  carried  their  long  poles. 

It  was  near  noon  when  they  at  length  reached  the  high 
land  where  the  pine-trees  grew.  After  plunging  into  a 
neighboring  pool  of  comparatively  clear  water  in  order  to 
wash  the  mud  and  slime  from  their  bodies  and  clothing, 
the  boys  climbed  wearily  up  the  slope  and  lay  down  in 
the  warm  sunshine,  shading  their  faces  with  palmetto 
leaves. 

Here  they  rested  two  or  three  hours,  then  pushed  for- 
ward wearily  but  determinedly  across  the  island,  if  island 
it  were.  The  vegetation  was  soon  found  to  be  unusually 
dense  and  wild.  Even  after  gaining  the  crest  of  the  slope, 
where,  on  the  other  islands  a  comparatively  open  pine  ridge 
was  usually  found,  they  were  confronted  by  the  wild  bram- 
bles of  the  jungle  and  immense  thickets  of  scrub-oak  and 
blackjack. 

About  an  hour  later,  however,  they  emerged  upon  an 
open  pine  barren,  where  the  underbrush  consisted  solely  of 
the  ubiquitous  tyty,  hemleaf,  and  fan-palmetto.  It  was 
here  that  a  herd  of  cattle  was  discovered,  and  the  boys 


A    '' DESERT  INACCESSIBLE.''  137 

were  led  thereby  to  believe  that  they  were  now  at  last 
clear  of  the  vast  Okefenokee. 

Great  was  their  surprise,  therefore,  to  see  that  as  soon  as 
their  approach  was  observed,  the  herd  took  fright  and  tied 
wildly  into  the  brush,  only  an  immense  bull  standing  his 
ground,  facing  the  boys,  head  down,  and  pawing  the  earth 
in  a  threatening  manner. 

"  Why,  they  must  be  wild  cattle  !"  Joe  exclaimed. 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered,  when  with  an  angry 
bellow  the  bull  charged  at  full  speed. 

"  Eun,  Charley  !  Climb  a  tree ! "  cried  Joe,  standing  his 
ground  for  a  few  moments  in  order  to  draw  the  pursuit 
upon  himself. 

Seeing  that  his  brother  was  almost  if  not  quite  out  of 
harm's  way,  Joe,  too,  turned  and  fled,  the  bull  close  at  his 
heels.  Dropping  his  gun,  he  leaped  upward  and  caught 
the  limb  of  a  scrub-oak,  and  swung  himself  up  out  of  reach 
just  as  the  maddened  animal  dashed  past  with  lowered 
horns. 

Wheeling  about,  the  great  bull  charged  the  tree,  butting 
it  with  great  fury.  Although  it  was  slender,  and  trembled 
and  swayed  at  every  shock,  the  young  oak  was  tough,  and 
withstood  the  attack,  until  baffled  Taurus  had  exhausted 
his  rage  or  his  powers,  and,  retiring,  trotted  off  into  the 
brush  on  the  track  of  the  herd. 

As  soon  as  it  was  safe  to  venture  from  their  retreats, 
Joe  called  to  Charley,  who  was  in  a  neighboring  tree,  and 
they  descended  to  the  ground. 

It  was  now  past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  but  they 
still  pushed  on,  until  Charley  fell  rather  than  sat  upon  the 


138  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

grass,  declaring  that  he  could  go  no  further.  The  last 
mile  had  been  for  him  literally  a  drag.  All  the  nerves 
of  his  weakened  frame  were  throbbing  with  fever  and 
excitement. 

"  I  feel  as  if  my  head  would  burst,"  he  said,  staring 
stupidly  about  him. 

Joe,  who  felt  little  better,  sat  by  him  a  while,  and  tried 
to  encourage  him. 

"  You  stay  here  and  rest,  Charley,"  said  the  elder  boy  at 
length,  rising  to  his  feet,  "  while  I  look  around  for  a  good 
place  to  camp.  The  matches  are  dry  now,"  he  added, 
"and  I  think  we  can  have  a  fire  to-night." 

An  hour  later,  as  the  sun  sank  out  of  sight  behind  the 
woods,  Joe,  who  liad  chanced  upon  something  like  a  trail, 
and  followed  it  for  a  mile,  stole  guardedly  through  an  oak 
thicket,  and,  halting  on  its  borders,  looked  into  an  open 
space  where  a  camp-fire  burned. 

Everywhere  in  the  little  clearing  there  were  evidences 
of  a  long  sojourn.  The  stumps  of  several  trees  showed 
that  the  felling  had  been  done  months,  perhaps  a  year  or 
more,  before.  Curing  hides  hung  against  the  trees  ;  tools 
and  cooking  utensils  lay  about  on  the  grass.  A  pot  swung 
over  the  fire  from  a  tripod  of  three  long  sticks,  and  in  it 
there  evidently  simmered  a  savory  stew.  No  dog  was 
aroused  by  Joe's  approach  ;  and  the  sole  human  occupant 
of  the  clearing  was  a  white  man  of  middle  size,  with  long 
iron-gray  hair  and  beard,  who  sat  on  the  ground  near  the 
fire,  his  back  to  tlie  observer. 

What  he  was  doing,  Joe  could  not  see,  and  did  not  wait 
to   ascertain.     After   one   swift  glance,  the   boy   quietly 


A    "DESERT  INACCESSIBLE.''  139 

retraced  his  steps  through  the  thicket,  and  ran  backward 
over  the  trail  with  all  speed  toward  the  spot  where  he  had 
left  his  little  brother. 

"  Oh,  Charley ! "  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  was  within 
speaking  distance,  "  I  've  found  a  camp,  and  there  's  a  man 
there  cooking  sui3per ! " 

But  Charley  only  looked  at  his  brother  stupidly,  and 
spoke  of  his  head.  Apparently  the  fever  had  entered  his 
brain.  A  great  fear  fell  upon  Joe  ;  and  although  he  was 
now  scarcely  able  to  drag  one  foot  after  the  other,  with 
sudden  resolution  he  lifted  the  unresisting  boy  in  his  arms 
and  staggered  along  the  trail  toward  the  stranger's  camp, 

"  —  Whate'er  ye  are, 
That  in  this  desert  inaccessible, 
Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs, 
Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time," 

cried  Orlando,  as  he  entered  the  camp  of  the  exiles  in  tlie 
forest  of  Arden,  half  carrying  his  aged  footsore  and  faint- 
ing servitor. 

"If  ever  j'ou  have  looked  on  better  days  ; 
If  ever  been  where  bells  have  knoll'd  to  church  ; 
If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man's  feast ; 
If  ever  from  your  eyelids  wiped  a  tear, 
And  know  what  't  is  to  pity  and  be  pitied  ; 
Let  gentleness  my  .strong  enforcement  be." 

Joe's  appeal,  as  he  staggered  into  the  graybeard's  camp, . 
still  carrying  Charley  in  his  arms,  was  less  stately  and 
picturesque,  but  doubtless  more  effective  to  the  startled 
ear  which  listened  to  it. 

"  Help  us  —  have  pity  on  us,"  he  panted,  —  "  or  my 
little  brother  will  die  !  " 


140  IN    THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

The  boy  sank  down  by  the  fire  with  his  burden,  in  a 
state  of  absohite  exhaustion,  as  the  man  with  the  gray 
beard  started  up  in  manifest  affright,  and  drew  back. 
Evidently  he  was  somewhat  deaf,  and  had  not  heard  the 
sound  of  Joe's  approaching  footsteps. 

"  Who  're  you  ? "  he  demanded  suspiciously,  looking 
around  as  if  expecting  some  further  invasion  of  the  \m- 
vacy  of  his  camp.  "  Whur  —  whur  in  the  dickens  did  you 
come  from  ? " 

Joe  did  not  answer;  he  lay  passively  on  the  ground 
beside  his  brother,  keeping  his  eye  fixed  on  the  strange 
man.  The  question  was  repeated  ;  and  as  there  was  again 
no  answer,  the  strange  man  drew  nearer,  bent  over  the  two 
boys,  and  looked  at  them  curiously. 

"  Are  you  sick  ?  "  he  asked  more  gently. 

"  Starving,"  answered  Joe,  hardly  above  a  whisper. 

A  wave  of  compassion  swept  over  the  man.  He  almost 
leaped  to  the  fire  ;  and,  quickly  dipping  something  from  tlie 
pot  into  a  tin  cup,  he  blew  his  breath  upon  it  several 
times,  in  order  to  cool  it,  then  ran  back  to  the  prostrate 
boys,  and,  kneeling  beside  them,  offered  the  cup  to  Joe. 
But  the  boy  gently  pushed  it  away,  and  motioned  toward 
his  brother,  indicating  that  Charley  was  in  the  greatest 
need  and  should  be  attended  to  first. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

GEOKGE   WASHINGTON   JEFFERSON   JACKSON   SMITH. 

HAVING  partaken  of  the  nourishment  which  was 
presently  offered  him  again,  Joe  fell  asleep,  or 
fainted,  —  he  could  not  afterwards  tell  which,  —  and  there 
followed  a  blank.  When  he  again  opened  his  eyes  and 
looked  about  him,  he  lay  on  a  bed  of  moss  in  a  curious 
circular  room,  in  the  centre  of  which  there  rose  from  floor 
to  ceiling  what  was  unquestionably  the  trunk  of  a  living 
tree. 

Raising  himself  on  his  arm  and  staring  about  him,  no 
little  alarmed  to  find  that  Charley  was  absent,  Joe  felt 
the  whole  room  tremble  slightly,  and  heard  a  sound  as  of 
some  one  ascending  a  ladder.  In  a  few  moments  a  small 
slide-door  was  pushed  aside,  and  the  strange  man  of  the 
long  gray  hair  and  beard  entered  the  room.  A  cheerful 
expression  overspread  his  naturally  kindly  face,  as  he  met 
the  boy's  eye. 

"  You  feel  better  now,  I  reckon  ? "  he  said,  seating  him- 
self on  a  pile  of  moss  near  Joe's  bed. 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  asked  the  boy,  uneasily,  without  answer 
to  the  inquiry. 

"  In  my  house,"  was  the  reassuring  reply.  "  You  've 
been  pretty  bad  off,  —  sort  o'  wanderin'  in  yer  mind.  But 
you  're  all  right  now." 


142  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"■  Where  's  my  brother  ? " 

"  He  's  outside.  He  got  up  and  went  down  this  mornin'. 
He  's  all  right.  He  jes'  had  a  little  fever  from  cold  and 
exposure.  You  was  the  sickest  of  the  two.  You  've  been 
on  a  harder  strain,  I  reckon." 

"  How  long  have  I  been  here  ?  " 

"  Three  days.  I  thought  at  first  you  was  in  for  a  set-in 
spell  o'  typhoid ;  but  I  reckon  it  was  jes'  a  narvous  fever, 
brought  on  by  starvation  and  so  nnich  exposure.  It  was 
mighty  high,  though,  for  a  while.  Yer  little  brother 
Charley  tole  me  how  you-all  *s  been  lost  and  a-wanderin' 
so  long  in  the  swamp.  You  boys  has  seen  sights,  I  tell 
you." 

"  Are  we  out  of  the  swamp  at  last  ?  "  asked  Joe,  eagerly. 

"  No,  not  by  a  long  jump.  You  're  on  Blackjack,  one 
o'  the  biggest  islands." 

Joe  heaved  a  heavy  sigh  of  disappointment,  then  asked 
suddenly,  "  Are  you  a  deserter  ? " 

"Who,  me?"  ejaculated  the  man,  starting  perceptibly, 
and  turning  upon  the  boy  an  injured  look.  "  You  don  't 
know  me,"  he  continued  impressively.  "  Mij  name  is 
George  Washington  Jefferson  Jackson  Smith,  and  I  'm  a 
soldiery 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  "  Joe  hastened  to  say,  showing 
great  regret.  "  There  are  so  many  deserters  in  the  swamp, 
you  know,  it 's  the  first  thing  I  thought  of  But,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  where  is  your  uniform,  and  why  are  you  here  ? " 

It  seemed  strange  to  the  boy  that  this  much-denomi- 
nated Mr.  Smith  should  appear  to  be  made  uneasy  by 
this  question. 


WASHINGTON  JEFFERSON  JACKSON  SMITH.     143 

"  Well,  you  see/'  was  the  stammering  reply,  "I  —  I  'm  in 
disguise  at  present.  You  must  n't  tell  it,  but  I  —  I  'm  in 
ii-yer  keepin'  my  eye  on  that  cussed  gang  o'  deserters,  an' 
when  the  —  the  —  right  time  comes  I  —  I  —  aim  to  bring 
the  soldiers  in,  and  we  '11  nab  every  last  one  of  'em." 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?  I  'm  so  glad  ! "  cried  Joe. 

Mr.  George  Washington  Jefferson  Jackson  Smith  now 
rose  and  retired,  telling  the  boy  he  must  lie  quiet  till  the 
morrow.  As  it  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  this  would 
not  be  a  very  trying  task,  and  Joe  willingly  acquiesced. 
Charley's  voice  was  now  heard  as  he  climbed  up  the  lad- 
der. In  a  few  moments  he  entered  the  room  with  a  smile 
on  his  face,  whereat  Joe  was  so  overcome  with  joy  that  he 
seized  his  unresisting  brother  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  him. 

"  We  are  safe  at  last,"  he  said,  and  lay  back  wearily  and 
dreamily  on  the  moss,  taking  little  note  of  Charley's 
answering  remark,  — 

"That  Mr.  Smith  is  such  a  funny  man.  He  talks  so 
funny.  And  he  looks  just  like  a  ram-goat,  with  that  long 
beard  growin'  down  in  a  point." 

An  hour  and  a  half  later  tears  of  gratitude  filled  Joe's 
eyes  when  his  host  brought  in  a  delicious  quail  stew  for 
his  supper. 

"  Then  you  won't  want  to  keep  us  prisoners,"  said  the 
boy  as  he  ate,  "  and  won't  be  afraid  for  us  to  leave  the 
swamp,  if  you  're  a  soldier  ?  " 

"  Who,  me  ?     No,  sir-ree  !  " 

"  And  maybe  you  'd  be  willing  to  show  us  the  way 
out,  —  you  've  been  so  good  to  us,"  continued  Joe,  with  an 
eloquent  look. 


144  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  W-e-U,  hardly,"  hesitated  Mr.  G.  W.  J.  J.  Smith ;  "  I 
could  n't  git  off  for  that.  You  see  I  could  n't  spare  the 
time ;  I  've  got  to  watch  them  deserters.  But  I  kin  put 
you  on  the  traiL  You  kin  go  it  by  water  to  the  Cow 
House  in  half  a  day.  I  kin  loan  you  a  bateau,  —  I  've  got 
two,  —  and  you  kin  leave  it  for  me  at  the  Cow  House." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !     But  what  is  the  '  Cow  House '  ? " 

"  It 's  a  big  peninsula  runnin'  in  the  swamp.  They  call 
it  the  Cow  House  'cause  the  cattle  thieves  use'  to  drive 
herds  o'  cattle  in  there  and  keep  'em  till  they  could  slip 
off  with  'em  to  some  market.  That's  whur  these  wild 
cattle  on  Blackjack  come  from.  They  run  off  from  the 
Cow  House  into  the  marsh,  and  come  over  h-yer  and  run 
wild." 

"  And  after  we  get  to  the  Cow  House  ? "  questioned 
Joe. 

"  All  you  got  to  do  is  jes'  to  follow  the  trail  'bout  ten 
miles  through  the  piny  woods,  and  you  're  right  at 
Trader's  Hill." 

Joe's  delight  at  this  news  was  unbounded.  He  earn- 
estly thanked  their  new  friend,  and  expressed  the  hope  that 
some  day  he  might  be  able  to  make  a  fitting  return  for  so 
many  kindnesses. 

"Maybe   you  kin;    maybe  you   kin,"   was  the  answer. 

It  was  long  before  Joe  fell  asleep,  his  mind  being  so  full 
of  thoughts  of  his  home,  which  now  seemed  so  near.  In 
the  morning  he  rose  early,  feeling  well  and  strong  again, 
and  followed  Charley  down  the  ladder  to  the  camp-fire. 
He  looked  back  with  great  interest  at  the  house  in  the  tree, 
and  spoke  of  it  with  admiration  to  their  host,  who  was 


WASHINGTON  JEFFERSON  JACKSON  SMITH.     145 

cooking  breakfast,  and  who  smiled  proudly  as  he  remarked 
that  the  building  had  cost  him  many  a  day's  hard  labor. 
The  house,  which  consisted  of  one  large  circular  room,  was 
built  in  a  stout  water-oak,  the  upper  branches  of  which 
had  been  mostly  cut  away,  the  lower  serving  to  support 
the  framework  of  rough  puncheon  planks.  It  had  been 
built  in  the  tree,  like  the  elevated  loft  of  the  deserters,  as 
a  safeguard  against  rattlesnakes  and  moccasins. 

"  Everything  looks  as  if  you  had  been  here  a  long  time," 
said  Joe,  glancing  about  him.  The  house  itself  must  have 
stood  in  the  tree  a  year  at  the  least. 

"  Ye-yes,"  stammered  Mr,  Smith  ;  "  but  I  hain't  been 
li-yer  so  very  long,  though.  You  see  ther'  was  a  feller 
h-yer  before  me." 

Charley  now  called  Joe's  attention  to  two  large  fox 
squirrels,  lying  on  the  grass  near  the  fire. 

"  I  shot  'em  this  mornin'  'fore  you  waked  up,"  said  their 
host,     "  The  woods  is  chock  full  of  'em,  " 

The  boys  ate  a  hearty  breakfast,  after  which  Joe  felt  so 
far  restored  that  he  eagerly  asked  if  they  could  not  start 
for  home  at  once,  and  only  reluctantly  yielded  when  he 
was  advised  to  rest  until  the  following  morning. 

The  day  was  spent  in  talking  with  their  new  friend,  in 
giving  him  some  help  toward  the  preparation  of  the  meals, 
and  in  lying  about  on  the  grass  and  sleeping.  Joe  also 
cleaned  his  gun,  dried  his  powder  and  caps,  and  otherwise 
prepared  for  the  start  on  the  following  morning.  Charley 
took  great  interest  in  a  bow,  belonging  to  and  manu- 
factured by  their  host,  and  considered  himself  highly 
honored    on  being  allowed  to   shoot  away  two   or  three 

10 


146  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

arrows,  which  latter  he  diligently  searched  for  and  returned 
to  their  owner.  Both  bow  and  arrows  were  made  of  ash, 
the  latter  being  tipped  with  sharpened  bits  of  steel.  The 
bow-string  was  made  from  the  tough  gut  of  the  wild-cat. 

"  Come  go  with  me  now,  if  you  want  to  see  some  fun," 
said  Mr.  Smith,  at  sundown. 

He  then  took  bow  and  arrows,  and  led  the  boys  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away  in  the  woods,  telling  them  he  would 
show  them  how  partridges  roosted  at  night.  When  the 
place  was  reached,  twilight  had  fallen  ;  but  the  boys  dis- 
tinctly saw,  when  pointed  out,  several  birds  squatting  on  a 
limb  of  a  tree  about  thirty  feet  distant. 

"  Watch  me  drop  'em,"  said  their  host ;  and,  lifting  his 
bow,  he  bent  it  almost  double,  the  string  twanged,  and  the 
arrow  sped  on  its  way. 

One  of  the  birds  at  once  disappeared  from  view  ;  the 
others  looked  startled,  lifting  and  turning  their  heads  from 
side  to  side,  as  if  striving  in  vain  to  pierce  the  gathering 
gloom.  Four  times  the  bowman  sent  an  arrow  flying,  then 
ran  forward  himself,  and,  after  a  short  delay,  returned  with 
four  birds,  each  with  its  head  cut  .off  clean.  ^ 

"Well,  you  are  a  fine  shot!"  cried  Joe,  with  great  ad- 
miration. 

"You  see,  I  shoots  'em  in  the  head  to  keep  from  spilin' 
the  meat,"  was  the  explanation,  with  a  proud  smile. 

When  they  had  returned  to  the  light  of  the  camp-fire, 
and  their  friend  was  preparing  to  open  the  birds,  he  dis- 
covered a  folded  paper  beneath  the  wing  of  one  of  them 
and  called  Joe's  attention  to  it. 

1  An  occurrence  actually  witnessed  in  the  Okefenokee. 


WASHINGTON  JEFFERSON  JACKSON  SMITH.     147 

"  Well,  well !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  having  eagerly  seized 
the  folded  paper  and  opened  it,  "  that 's  the  very  partridge 
we  tried  to  send  a  letter  to  father  by.  Just  think  of  it ! " 
He  then  described  the  circumstances  of  sending  the  letter. 

"  How  long  ago  was  that  ?  " 

'•  About  two  wrecks." 

"  Hit 's  a  wonder  that  partridge  ain't  got  shed  of  it  long 
before  this,"  remarked  their  host.  "  Birds  has  got  more 
sense  'n  you  give  'em  credit  for." 

"  Asa  said  that  partridge  would  never  leave  the  swamp," 
put  in  Charley. 

Joe  handed  the  letter  to  their  friend,  intimating  that  he 
might  read  it  if  he  cared  to  take  the  trouble.  The  name- 
sake of  the  fathers  of  the  republic  seemed  curiously  em- 
barrassed, and,  after  holding  the  letter  in  his  hand  for  a  few 
moments,  returned  it,  saying,  "  You  better  read  it  while  I 
'tend  to  these  birds ; "  and  Joe  did  as  was  recommended. 

As  they  sat  about  the  fire  after  supper,  the  subject  of 
tlie  war  came  up,  and  their  host,  as  Joe  declared  after- 
ward, literally  "  spread  himself,"  becoming  very  communi- 
cative in  regard  to  his  own  personal  experiences.  He 
showed  an  intense  interest  in  the  subject,  and  expressed 
unqualified  disapproval  of  the  conduct  of  the  war  from  the 
beginning. 

"  Yes,  things  is  goin'  wrong,"  he  said,  in  rejoinder  to  a 
regretful  remark  from  Joe.  "  The  truth  is,"  continued  Mr. 
Smith,  lifting  his  index  finger  into  the  air  in  order  to  em- 
phasize his  words,  —  "  the  truth  is,  the  war  ain't  been  run 
right  from  the  start.  It  never  is  been  run  to  suit  me.  As 
I  says  to  Gen'l  Johnson  after  the  first  battle  of  Manassas, 


148  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

s'  I,  '  General,  it  want  done  riglit,'  s'  I.  '  To  be  shore,  it 
was  a  victory,'  s'  I ;  '  bat  it  mout  'a'  been  a  long-sight  more. 
If  you  'd  only  'a'  followed  'em  up  when  they  run,  you  mout 
'a'  tuck  Washington,'  s'  I.  S'  'e,  'George,  you're  right,  as 
you  always  is,'  s'  'e,  '  and  I  wish  mightily  you  'd  'a'  been 
on  hand  to  suggest  it.'  " 

"  Why  —  why,  what  position  did  you  hold  ?  "  gasped 
Joe,  amazed  that  any  private,  as  he  supposed  his  host  to 
have  been,  would  have  dared  to  speak  thus  to  a  general. 

"  Who,  me  ?  OIi,  I  was  on  the  general's  staff  in  them 
days.  But  unluckily  he  sont  me  off  that  time,  and  I 
was  n't  on  hand  to  tell  him  what  to  do." 

For  a  moment  Joe  wondered  how  an  uneducated  and 
ungrammatical  man,  such  as  he  saw  his  host  to  be,  could 
have  found  a  place  on  the  staff  of  a  leading  general ;  but 
the  boy  was  so  elated  at  the  thought  of  being  in  the  soci- 
ety of  so  great  a  man  and  soldier  that  he  did  not  pause  for 
sober  reflection. 

"  Hit  was  jes'  the  same  thing  at  the  battle  o'  Gettys- 
burg," continued  this  great  soldier,  with  an  air  of  disgust. 
"  The  thing  want  worked  right  from  the  start,  and  I  tole 
Gen'l  Lee  so  myself.  I  says,  s'  I,  '  General,  this  won't  do 
—  this  won't  begin  to  do,'  s'  I.  And  the  general  says,  s'  'e, 
'  George,  I  done  my  best,'  s'  'e.  '  I  'm  mighty  sorry  you 
want  h-yer  to  holp  us  out,'  s'  'e.  '  If  I  heel  'a'  been  h-yer,' 
s'  I,  '  that  battle  would  'a'  ended  diffunt,'  s'  I,  for  I  was  rale 
mad.  '  Mebby  so,'  says  'e,  lookin'  mighty  down  in  the 
mouth." 

"  And  you  are  as  well  acquainted  with  General  Lee  as 
that !  "  exclaimed  Joe,  lost  in  wonder. 


WASHINGTON  JEFFERSON  JACKSON  SMITH.     149 

"  Who,  me  ?  I  knowed  him  like  a  brother.  I  knowed 
'em  all.  Ther'  waut  a  general  in  the  army  but  what  was 
glad  to  git  my  advice.  Even  the  rank  and  file  o'  the  sol- 
diers knowed  me  by  sight,  and  when  they  seen  me  makin' 
for  the  general's  quarters,  they  'd  fling  up  ther'  hats  and 
holler,  '  Hurrah  for  George  Washington  Jefterson  Jackson 
Smith !  Make  way  for  George  Washington  Jefferson 
Jackson  Smith  !  He 's  goin'  to  take  counsel  with  the  gen- 
eral.    Make  way  there  I '  " 

"  But  —  but,"  stammered  Joe,  still  credulous,  but  strug- 
gling in  a  maze  of  contradictions,  "  but  why  did  you  come 
away  if  they  needed  your  advice  ? " 

"  I  was  mad,  for  one  thing,"  was  the  glib  answer.  "  I  was 
plum'  put  out  by  the  way  things  was  goin',  and  then,  you 
know,  the  deserters  had  to  be  looked  after.  The  army  ain't 
got  no  men  to  lose  nowadays.  I  'm  (detailed  to  look  after 
these  cussed  deserters  in  this  swamp." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see,"  ejaculated  Joe,  evidently  rescued  from 
further  troubling  doubt. 

"  You  know,  I  was  named  after  George  Washington  and 
Thomas  Jefferson  and  Andrew  Jackson,"  pursued  the  great 
soldier,  proudly ;  "  and  them  men  in  the  army,  the  generals 
and  the  rest  o'  'em,  use'  to  say  I  had  the  heads  o'  all  three 
on  my  one  pair  o'  shoulders." 

So  their  garrulous  host  went  on  spinning  yarns  until  a 
late  hour.  Finally,  Charley,  who  had  fallen  asleep,  was 
roused,  and  then  all  three  retired  to  their  beds  of  moss  in  the 
tree-house,  Joe  to  dream  of  bloody  battles,  famous  generals, 
and  the  society  of  great  men  generally.  The  two  boys 
climbed  up  first;  and  as  they  lay  down  on  the  moss,  and 


150  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

the  ladder  was  heard  to  tremble  beneath  the  weight  of  their 
host,  Charley  irreverently  whispered  to  his  brother,  — 
"  He  makes  me  think  of  a  ram-goat  all  the  time." 
"  Hush !  you  must  n't  be  so  disrespectful,"  said  Joe, 
sternly  resenting  such  levity  as  an  insult  to  the  majesty  of 
that  great  soldier,  George  Washington  Jefferson  Jackson 
Smith. 


CHAPTER   XYII. 

AGAIN   IN   DURANCE   VILE. 

THE  boys  were  well  pleased  the  next  morning  when 
their  distinguished  friend  proposed  to  accompany 
them  a  part  of  the  way  to  the  Cow  House. 

"  I  want  a  bait  o'  fish,"  he  told  them  at  breakfast ;  "  and 
I  think  I'll  jes'  git  in  t'other  bateau  and  go  with  you-all 
as  far  as  the  lake." 

All  their  preparations  were  complete  at  an  early  hour, 
and  a  start  was  made.  The  boys  were  led  about  a  mile 
through  the  woods  to  a  point  of  the  island  opposite  that  on 
which  they  had  landed.  Here  two  small  bateaux  were 
found,  and  the  party  embarked  on  the  flooded  marsh, 
following  a  distinctly  marked  boat-trail  through  the  water- 
mosses  and  grasses. 

Two  hours  later,  the  boats  entered  a  broad  circular  ex- 
panse of  open  water,  fully  a  mile  across,  and  passed  what 
might,  without  great  inaccuracy,  be  termed  a  shoal  of  alli- 
gators, for  the  heads  of  the  amphibian  monsters  could 
scarcely  be  counted.  They  showed  neither  fear  of  the 
boats  nor  a  desire  to  attack  them,  but  the  great  soldier 
prudently  made  a  detour  in  order  to  avoid  them. 

"  Soon 's  we  git  past  this  'gator-hole,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  show 
you  boys  how  to  ketch  a  trout." 


152  IN    THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Once  well  out  into  the  lake,  he  allowed  his  boat  to  drift, 
and  began  to  play  a  "  spoon  "  attached  by  a  three-foot  line 
to  the  end  of  his  rod.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  he  had  not 
less  than  a  dozen  "  rises,"  and  landed  safely  in  the  boat 
four  unusually  fine  black  bass,  the  largest  weigliing  at  least 
eight  pounds. 

"Take  that  along  for  yer  dinner,"  said  the  soldier-fisher- 
man, pitching  one  of  them  into  Joe's  boat. 

Arrived  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  lake,  he  pointed  out  a 
boat-trail  leading  away  through  the  sedge  and  over  the 
water  mosses  as  before,  informing  the  boys  that  it  would 
take  them  "  right  straight  to  the  Cow  House." 

"  You  ought  to  git  there  by  two  o'clock,"  he  added. 
"  Well,  good-by,  boys ;    take  care  yerself." 

"You  have  been  very  kind  to  us,"  said  Joe,  gratefully,  as 
the  boats  separated,  "  and  I  hope  we  can  return  it  some 
day." 

"  Well,  who  knows  but  what  you  kin  ?  You  jes'  tell 
yo'  pa  all  about  it,  and  maybe  I  '11  call  on  him  for  a  favor 
one  these  times.  Don't  fergit  to  tell  liim ! "  shouted  Mr. 
Smith;  and  after  this  speech,  Mdiich  struck  Joe  as  being 
unworthy  the  man  who  uttered  it,  the  great  soldier  waved 
liis  uplifted  paddle  in  farewell,  and  was  gone. 

The  trail  was  found  to  be  quite  distinct  all  the  way,  and 
it  was  not  so  difficult  to  paddle  and  pole  the  bateau  over 
it  but  that  they  could  make  fairly  rapid  headway  and 
might  have  reached  the  peninsula  at  the  calculated  time. 
But  Joe  now  felt  so  sure  of  reaching  home  early  the  ne.xt 
day  at  the  latest  tliat  he  allowed  himself  to  be  distracted 
and  delayed  by  the  game  encountered  along  the  route. 


AGAIN  IN  DURANCE   VILE.  153 

Having  been  unable  to  shoot  his  gun  for  four  or  five  days,  the 
temptation  to  indulge  in  his  favorite  sport  was  more  than 
he  could  now  resist. 

He  fired  a  number  of  shots  at  the  ducks  and  other  wild 
fowl  rising  from  the  marsh  at  their  approach.  Once  two 
wild  geese  flew  over  their  boat  well  within  range,  and  after 
firing,  Joe  was  made  happy  by  seeing  one  of  them  plunge, 
wheel  back  and  forth,  and  finally  fall  into  the  sedge,  some 
two  hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  their  course.  The  boy 
had  never  shot  a  wild-goose  before  and  considered  it  a 
great  prize. 

Charley  wanted  to  push  on,  but  Joe  would  not  consent  to 
leave  the  game  behind.  Much  time  was  therefore  wasted 
in  running  the  boat  out  of  the  beaten  track,  and  in  poling 
it  back  and  forth  through  the  sedge  in  search  of  the  goose. 
Several  times  they  ran  aground  and  found  great  diffi- 
culty in  extricating  themselves.  Indeed,  the  boy  was  finally 
obliged  to  take  off  his  clothes  and  search  for  the  game 
on  foot,  and  after  securing  it,  drag  the  boat  back  to  the 
trail. 

Nearly  two  hours  were  lost  in  this  way,  and  when  the 
boys  finally  landed  on  the  Cow  House  peninsula,  which 
seemed  in  all  respects  similar  to  the  islands  they  had  visited, 
it  was  past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  By  this  time 
they  were  ravenously  hungry,  and  were  obliged  to  consume 
another  hour  in  building  a  fire  and  cooking  something  to  eat. 
So  it  came  about  that  when  night  overtook  them  they 
were  still  in  the  heart  of  the  Cow  House. 

They  had  selected  a  suitable  spot  for  a  camp,  and  were 
building  a  fire,  when  the  sound  of  hurrying  footsteps  caused 


154  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

both  boys  to  start  up  and  look  about  them.  A  moiueut 
later  a  man  leaped  into  the  circle  of  firelight,  and  they 
recognized  the  negro  Asa. 

"  Well,  well !  Where  on  earth  did  you  come  from  ? " 
cried  Joe,  delighted,  and  both  boys  began  to  crowd  the 
smiling  negro  with  questions. 

"  I  been  a-watchin'  you  boys  a  good  while,"  said  Asa, 
laughing ;  "  I  did  u'  know  who  you  was  till  I  seen  Charley's 
face  over  de  fire,  den  I  come  a-jumpin'.  So  yuh  we  all  is 
togedder  agin." 

"  And  you  got  away  from  the  deserters  that  day,  after 
all  ? "  asked  Joe. 

"  And  did  you  swim  across  the  big  prairie  like  we  did  ? " 
asked  Charley. 

"  Who,  me  ?  I  come  thoo  de  woods.  I  des  got  away 
las'  night." 

Asa's  story  was,  in  substance,  that  after  marching  him 
back  to  the  spot  where  the  dog  had  been  killed,  the 
deserters  scattered,  and  lost  much  time  in  searching  for 
the  trail  supposed  to  have  been  taken  by  the  two  boys. 
Meanwhile  Asa  was  sent  on  to  camp  under  the  guard  of  Bud 
Jones,  who  left  the  recapture  of  the  boys  to  the  others. 
Late  in  the  day  the  rest  returned  to  the  island  crestfallen 
and  in  great  ill-humor. 

The  negro,  after  serving  as  the  butt  of  much  violent 
language  and  having  been  threatened  with  dreadful  punish- 
ment if  he  attempted  to  escape  again,  was  liberated,  and 
allowed  to  go  about  his  usual  employment.  In  the  course 
of  the  afternoon  and  evening,  he  noted  that,  while  the 
successful  escape  of  the  two  boys  seemed  to  cause  the  other 


AGAIN  IN  DURANCE    VILE.  155 

men  great  annoyance  aud  dread,  Bubber  Hardy  looked 
more  cheerful  than  he  had  done  since  he  first  showed  that 
he  was  "  hurted "  in  his  mind,  after  listening  to  Joe's 
memorable  speech.  Events  then  took  their  usual  course 
in  the  deserters'  camp,  and  a  week  passed. 

"  Yistiddy  mornin',"  continued  Asa,  "  Mr.  Jackson  and 
four  or  five  de  others  started  off  on  a  trip  to  meet  dey  wives 
souie'rs  on  de  edge  o'  de  swamp,  an'  I  yeared  some  o'  em 
say  dey  did  n't  calculate  to  git  back  for  two  or  tree  days. 
Well,  las'  night,  wut  you  reckon,  my  boss  an'  de  others 
went  to  bed  in  de  loft  an'  forgot  to  fasten  me  up  in  de 
pen,  an'  soon 's  I  knowed  dey  was  all  sleep  good,  I  come 
a-kitiu',  an'  yuh  I  is." 

With  some  assistance,  mostly  in  the  form  of  excited  inter- 
jections, from  Charley,  Joe  told  the  story  of  tlieir  adven- 
tures since  the  separation  from  Asa.  A  full  understanding 
arrived  at,  and  the  proposition  made  that  the  three  start 
for  Trader's  Hill  at  dawn,  Asa  took  up  the  preparation  for 
supper  where  the  boys  had  left  off,  and  they  were  soon 
satisfying  their  hunger  with  broiled  fish  and  fowl. 

Their  meal  was  not  quite  finished  when  the  sound  of 
hurrying  feet  arrested  their  attention.  Starting  up,  they 
promptly  discerned  the  forms  of  six  men  closing  in  upon 
their  camp-fire  from  almost  as  many  different  quarters. 
Evidently  they  were  to  be  captured,  and  every  avenue  of 
escape  had  been  designedly  cut  off. 

"  Hit 's  de  'zerters,"  whispered  Asa,  —  "  Mr.  Jackson  an' 
his  crowd.     No  use  to  try  to  run." 

They  were  indeed  caught,  and  it  would  be  useless  to 
resist.     In  a  few  moments  the  deserters  were  upon  them, 


156  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

and,  seizing  the  two  boys  aud  the  uegro,  they  promptly 
tied  their  hands. 

"  So  h-yer  you  is,  is  you  ? "  cried  Sweet  Jackson,  in  scorn 
and  triumph.  "  Thought  you  'd  git  clean  out  o'  the  swamp 
by  to-morrow,  did  you  ?  Well,  we  '11  see  about  that.  Bub- 
ber  Hardy  is  willin'  to  let  you  boys  go,  but  the  balance  of 
us  ain't  sich  natural-born  fools.  As  for  this  cussed  nigger, 
1  don't  want  to  lame  him  so  he  can't  walk,  but  jes'  wait 
tell  we  git  him  back  on  the  island.  We  'II  make  him  see 
sights,  Bubber  Hardy  or  no  Bubber  Hardy." 

Asa  submitted  without  a  murmur,  and  Joe  was  for  the 
time  so  dazed  by  surprise  and  chagrin  that  he  could  not 
speak.  But  Charley  began  forthwith  to  cry,  and  sobbed 
piteously  for  half  an  hour. 

"  I  '11  make  you  sorry  for  this  one  of  these  days,"  Joe 
burst  out  at  last,  hot  indiguant  tears  starting  in  his  eyes. 

"  You'd  better  keep  a  still  tongue  in  your  head,"  rejoined 
Sweet  Jackson,  with  anger.  "  That 's  all  I  've  got  to  say  to 
you,  Mr.  Smarty." 

Their  belongings  having  been  picked  up,  the  prisoners 
were  now  led  away.  A  tramp  of  half  a  mile  brought  them 
into  the  neighborhood  of  another  camp-fire  about  which 
several  forms  were  moving.  At  a  nearer  view  these  proved 
to  be  women,  four  in  number. 

"  I  reckon  dem  's  dey  wives  dey  come  out  yuh  to  meet," 
whispered  Asa  to  Joe. 

"  You  caught  'era  ?  "  called  out  one  of  the  women,  in  a 
shrill,  high  voice,  as  the  party  approached. 

"  Yere,"  was  the  answer. 

It  was  learned   later  that  one  of  the  deserters,  starting 


AGAIN  IN  DURANCE    VILE.  157 

out  from  the  camp  with  his  guu,  had  discovered  the  pris- 
oners, and  returning,  gave  the  alarm. 

"  Let  me  git  a  look  at  them  boys,"  said  the  same  woman, 
as  the  prisoners  were  led  within  the  light  radiating  from 
the  fire. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  coarse  homespun  frock  and  sun- 
bonnet,  and  her  sallow  face  was  far  from  handsome ;  but 
she  had  a  bright  black  intelligent  eye,  and  she  gazed  at 
Joe  and  Charley  with  great  interest,  and  in  a  not  un- 
friendly way. 

"  Oh,  Sweet,  why  can't  you  turn  'em  loose  and  let  'em 
go  ? "  she  asked,  after  staring  hard  for  a  few  moments. 
"  I  know  they  're  powerful  homesick ;  I  'm  sorry  for  'em,  — 
they're  sich  putty-lookin'  boys." 

"  They  kin  make  a  fool  o'  Bubber  Hardy,  but  they  can't 
make  a  fool  o'  me,"  was  the  only  answer. 

"  But  what  harm  kin  two  little  hoys  do  you  if  you  do 
turn  'em  loose  ?  " 

"  They  kin  tell  on  us  an'  git  us  arrested,  —  that 's  what 
harm  they  kin  do,"  answered  Bud  Jones,  dryly. 

"  You  jes'  better  'tend  to  yo'  own  business,  Nancy,"  said 
Jackson,  gruffly,  and  the  discussion  stopped  there. 

Nancy  Jackson  —  for  it  was  at  once  clear  to  the  prisoners 
that  she  was  Sweet's  wife  —  appeared  to  be  the  leading 
spirit  among  the  women.  The  other  three  seemed  to  have 
much  to  say  to  their  several  lords,  with  whom  they  sat 
apart  on  the  grass,  but  Mrs.  Jackson  was  the  only  one  who 
raised  her  voice  in  the  hearing  of  the  whole  camp. 

They  were  all  of  the  illiterate  Cracker  class,  like  their  hus- 
bands, but  were  women  of  no  little  determination,  or  they 


158  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

would  never  have  ventured  into  the  jaws  of  the  Okefenokee, 
so  to  speak,  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  their  homes,  attended 
only  by  two  half-grown  boys.  The  object  of  their  expedi- 
tion was  to  meet  and  spend  a  couple  of  days  with  their 
husbands,  and  bring  them  a  small  supply  of  salt,  —  an 
article  now  very  scarce  in  this  corner  of  the  Confederacy,  as 
was  indeed  almost  every  other  article  under  the  sun. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  WIDOW  OF  A  SOLDIER  OR  THE  WIFE  OF  A  DESERTER? 

AFTER  eating  heartily  of  the  supper  which  the  women 
had  been  preparing  for  them,  the  six  deserters 
lighted  their  pipes ;  and  for  about  two  hours  there  was 
much  animated  conversation  around  the  camp-fire,  the  wife 
of  Sweet  Jackson  taking  a  leading  part. 

Lying  passively  on  the  grass  beside  Asa  and  Charley, 
his  hands  still  bound,  Joe  gradually  became  intensely 
interested  in  what  this  woman  was  saying. 

"  I  tell  you  M'hat,  people  is  seein'  sights  these  days,"  said 
she.  "  Let  'lone  salt,  some  of  'em  ain't  got  a  roof  to  git 
under.  The  backwoods  is  full  o'  refugees  from  Savannah 
and  Brunswick  and  St.  Mary's  and  everywhur  else.  I  see 
'em  go  by  on  the  road  most  eve'y  day  in  wagins  and  ox 
c-yarts  and  anything  they  kin  git.  I  've  housed  loads  of 
'em  sence  they  been  comin',  bat  I  has  to  turn  a  heap  of 
'em  away. 

"  One  day  two  or  tliree  weeks  back,  a  powerful  stuck-up 
set  come  'long  —  or  their  nigger  gal  was  stuck-up  for  'em, 
they  was  meek  enough  theyselves.  They  come  in  a  ox 
c-yart,  —  a  white-headed  ole  gentleman  and  liis  wife  and 
two  young  ladies  and  the  nigger  gal.  I  tole  'em  they 
could  stop  over  night,  but  the  three  ladies  would  have  to 


160  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

go  in  one  room,  and  the  ole  man  would  have  to  sleep  in 
the  corn-crib ;  as  for  the  nigger  gal,  I  could  n't  say  what 
I  could  do  with  her,  but  I  'lowed  to  tix  her  somehow. 

" '  Very  well,  madam,'  says  the  ole  man,  kind  o'  proud 
and  stately ;  '  there  is  no  choice  but  to  stop.  You  are  very 
kind,  and  I  will  gladly  pay  your  demands.' 

"  So  they  lit  and  come  in,  and  while  the  ole  man  and 
his  lady  sot  on  the  piyaza,  and  the  two  young  ladies  walked 
up  and  down  in  the  yard,  that  nigger  wench  slipped  in  to 
look  at  the  room.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  She  stood  up  thar 
in  my  comi'p'ny  room  and  looked  round  and  turned  up  her 
nose !  Then  she  lent  over  and  felt  of  the  bed  and  stuck 
her  nose  down  to  smell  of  my  colored  sheets,  and  says  she, 
'  Hump  !  missis  can't  sleep  in  dis  bed  ! '  Well,  sir,  I  was 
that  mad,  I  grabbed  the  broom-stick  and  run  her  out  on 
the  piyaza. 

"  And  the  ole  man  and  his  lady  got  up  and  scolded  that 
gal  good,  and  they  says  to  me,  '  You  must  overlook  it, 
madam ; '  and  then  they  went  in  and  took  a  look  at  the 
room  theyselves,  and  smiled  at  me  kind  o'  sad  like,  and 
they  says,  '  This  will  do  very  well,  madam,  and  we  are 
greatly  obliged  to  you.'  But,  all  the  §ame,  them  three 
ladies  did  n't  sleep  in  that  bed,  —  they  slept  on  it.  I  went 
in  and  took  a  look  next  mornin'  when  they  come  out  to  git 
somethin'  to  eat,  and  I  seen  how  they  worked  it.  They 
did  n't  nair  one  of  'em  git  between  them  sheets ;  they  jes' 
spread  over  the  bed  a  lot  o'  shawls  and  things  they  had  in 
that  c-yart,  and  laid  down  on  top  of  'em.  I  never  seen 
sich  a  stuck-up  set. 

"  But  I  was  goin'  to  tell  you  'bout  the  gibberish  them 


SOLDIER'S    WIDOW  OR   DESERTER'S    WIFE?    161 

two  young  ladies  talked  wlieu  they  was  walkiu'  up  aud 
down  iu  that  yard.  1  weut  out  to  the  well  to  git  a  bucket 
o'  water,  and  they  passed  closte  and  I  heanl  'em,  and,  sir,  I 
could  n't  understand  a  single,  solitary  word  !  Aud  M'hen  I 
fetched  in  the  water  I  says  to  the  ole  lady,  s'  I ,  '  What  sort 
o'  gibberish  is  them  two  gals  a-talkin'  out  thar  in  that 
yard  ?  I  ain't  never  hearn  the  like.'  And  she  sort  o' 
smiles,  and  she  says,  '  I  suppose  my  daughter  is  speakin' 
French  with  her  governess,  as  she  ginally  does  when  they  're 
by  theyselves.'  Thass  jes'  what  she  said.  I 's  had  to  deal 
with  a  heap  o'  partic'lar  travellers,"  concluded  Xancy 
Jackson,    '  but  this  was  the  particlares'  crowd  yit." 

The  present  great  scarcity  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  par- 
ticularly of  salt,  and  the  discussion  of  the  subject  among 
the  six  deserters,  gave  occasion  for  another  story  from  the 
voluble  and  observant  Nancy. 

"  Why,  you  can't  git  none  for  love  nor  money  these 
days,"  she  declared.  "  That  salt  we  brought  3'istiddy  was 
give  to  us  by  ole  Mr.  Eichard  Macy  thar  in  Trader's  Hill. 
He  's  been  diggin'  up  the  earth  in  his  smoke-houses  and 
gittin'  the  salt  out  —  'extractin"  it,  he  says.  I  dunner 
how  he  does  it,  but  he  does  it.  Hit 's  mighty  black  and 
dirty,  but  hit's  salt,  and  ever'body  is  glad  to  git  it.  He 
don't  sell  it  off  for  a  big  price,  like  some  people  would,  but 
he  gives  it  away.  He  says  that  salt,  cep  'n  a  little  for  him- 
self, is  for  the  wives  and  widows  of  the  soldiers.  Ole  man 
Macy  is  powerful  sot  fernent  the  deserters  —  turrible  down 
on  'em,  shore  'nough  —  but  he's  a  mighty  good  man. 

"  I  was  thar  to  his  place  with  Liza  Wilkinson  that  time 
she  heard  John  was  killed,  and,  sir,  you  ought  to  'a'  heard 

11 


162  IN  rilE   OKEFENOKEE. 

him  talk !  We  went  to  git  salt,  and  found  him  a-readin' 
out  o'  the  paper  the  names  o'  the  killed  in  the  last 
battle,  and  when  he  come  to  John  Wilkinson's  name,  Liza 
jes'  turned  white  ez  tallow  and  sot  thar  dumb.  Hit  was 
rale  pitiful.  And  ole  man  Macy,  he  says, '  Po*  child  !  The 
Lord  help  you  ! '  An'  dreckly  he  got  started  off  like  a 
preacher,  and  got  to  praisiu'  up  the  soldiers  that  fell  in 
battle,  and  to  runnin'  down  deserters  plum'  turrible  —  well, 
sir,  hit  jes'  gimme  the  cole  chills  ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth. 
Sweet,  I  wished  I  could  see  you  in  the  army  'long  'side  o' 
John  Wilkinson,  even  if  they  did  kill  you." 

"You  ijit!"  was  Jackson's  angry  interjection. 

"  Atter  while,"  Nancy  continued,  "  Liza  got  up  and  walked 
out ;  and  when  I  started  home,  I  found  her  a-lyin'  down  in 
the  wire-grass  'side  the  road,  and  she  laid  thar  so  still  I 
thought  for  a  minute  she  was  dead.  I  went  to  her,  and  I 
says,  '  Git  up,  Liza,  an'  less  go  home ;  hit 's  late.*  And 
then  she  got  up  an'  sot  on  a  log,  and  I  tried  to  git  her  to 
take  a  dip  o'  snuff  to  brace  her  up ;  but  she  would  n't,  and 
she  looked  round  at  me,  and  she  says, '  Thank  God,  he  want 
no  deserter.  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  live  for  now,'  she  says, 
'  but  I  'm  better  off  'n  some  folks.  I  'd  ruther  be  the  widow 
of  a  soldier  than  the  wife  of  a  deserter,'  says  she,  and  then 
she  got  up  and  walked  on  ez  proud  ez  you  please. 

"  If  she  had  'a'  hit  me  in  the  head  with  a  hatchet,"  declared 
Nancy  Jackson,  passionately,  tears  starting  in  her  eyes,  "  she 
could  n't  'a'  Imrt  me  worse.  I  don't  wisli  you  no  harm. 
Sweet;  but  God  knows  I  ain't  proud  o'  bein'  the  wife  of  a 
deserter,  and  I  went  home  that  night  and  had  a  big  cry." 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  was  sich  a  fool,"  was  the  brutal 


SOLDIER'S    WIDOW   OR   DESERTER'S    WIFE?    163 

rejoinder  of  Jacksou,  who  had  started  to  his  feet  and 
seemed  ill  at  ease. 

"  Liza 's  got  consumption,"  concluded  Nancy,  sadly  pen- 
sive, "  and  she  won't  live  long  uohow." 

"  And  when  slie  dies,  she  '11  go  to  heaven,  where  her 
brave  liusbaud  is,"  burst  out  Joe,  beside  himself,  his  voice 
shaken  with  emotion. 

"  None  o'  yer  rantin'  now  !  "   exclaimed  Jackson, 

tiercely,  giving  the  prostrate  boy  a  kick. 

"  You  coward  !  you  beast ! "  cried  Joe,  starting  to  his  feet. 

Jackson  leaped  toward  the  boy  with  uplifted  arm,  but 
his  wife  ran  between  them  and  stopped  him. 

"  You  sha'n't  tech  him  ! "  she  declared.  —  "  less  'n  you 
knock  me  down,  too.  Ain't  desertiii'  the  army  enougli, 
'thout  jumpin'  on  a  half-grown  boy  whose  hands  is  tied  ? " 
she  demanded  in  great  scorn. 

Sweet  Jackson  glared  at  his  rebellious  wife  in  a  threat- 
ening manner,  but  hesitated,  and  after  a  moment  turned 
on  his  heel.  He  felt  ashamed,  not  of  his  intended  assault 
on  the  boy,  but  of  having  thus  been  balked  by  a  woman,  and 
that  woman  his  wife,  in  the  presence  of  his  associates  ;  and 
he  gave  vent  to  his  rage  in  the  repetition  of  a  number  of  his 
favorite  oaths. 

"  Lay  down  and  hush  now,"  said  Mrs.  Jackson,  urgently, 
to  Joe.    "  You  ought  to  know  better  than  to  aggervate  him." 

The  four  deserters  whose  wives  were  present  had  each 
built  a  "  brush-tent"  for  his  own  accommodation,  and  it  was 
in  these  that  the  women  spent  the  night  in  the  company 
of  their  husbands.  The  other  two  deserters,  and  the  two 
half-grown  boys  who  had  accompanied  the  women,  lay  down 


164  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

uuder  the  open  sky  around  the  fire.  Here  the  prisoners 
also  passed  the  night,  the  latter  not  only  with  their  hands 
still  bound,  hut  their  feet  also,  —  an  additional  precaution 
which  was  insisted  on  by  Jackson  before  he  retired  into 
his  brush-tent.  Asa  slept  as  soundly  as  usual ;  but  the  two 
boys,  excited  and  augered  by  this  fresh  indignity,  lay  awake 
and  talked  in  low  tones  during  the  greater  part  of  the  night. 

The  morning  light  found  the  prisoners  stiff  and  cold,  hut, 
in  the  case  at  least  of  the  two  youngsters,  with  spirits  still 
undaunted.  When  the  bonds  holding  their  feet  together 
were  loosed,  the  boys  and  the  negro  could  scarcely  stand. 

The  cainp  was  astir  at  an  early  liour,  and  as  soon  as 
breakfast  had  been  despatched,  the  four  women  took  leave 
of  their  husbands,  and,  attended  by  the  two  half-grown 
lads,  departed.  The  six  deserters  and  their  prisoners 
moved  away  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  Good-by,  Mrs.  Jackson  I  I  '11  never  forget  you  ! " 
called  out  Joe,  as  the  two  parties  were  separating, 

"  Good-by,  Joe, "  said  tlie  deserter's  wife,  the  soul  of 
kindliness  and  pity  in  her  voice  and  looks.  "  Never  you 
mind,  honey.  Don't  you  fret.  You  two  boys  '11  git  home 
safe  before  long.     This  sort  o'  thing  can't  last  always." 

"Shet  up!"  ordered  Jackson,  but  neither  his  wife  nor 
the  prisoners  took  any  notice  of  him. 

"  Won't  you  please  send  word  to  papa  and  tell  him  where 
we  are  ?  "  pleaded  Charley. 

"  N"o ;  she  won't  do  no  sich  of  a  thing ! "  roared  Jackson, 
ordering  his  wife  to  depart  and  the  prisoners  to  go  forward. 

Nancy  Jackson  looked  doubtful,  liesitating,  pained,  as 
she  listened  to  the  little  boy's  pathetic  entreaty.     Without 


SOLDIER'S    WIDOW   OR  DESERTER'S    WIFE?    165 

answering,  she  turned  and  walked  on,  the  same  expression 
on  her  face.  The  three  other  women  and  the  two  halt- 
grown  lads  were  some  distance  ahead ;  but  she  seemed  in 
no  hurry  to  overtake  them,  and  paused  several  times  to 
look  back.  As  she  did  so,  the  boys  could  see  that  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  She  deserved  a  better  husband,"  Joe  remarked  to  his 
little  brother,  as  they  turned  to  follow  their  captors. 

The  boys  were  told  nothing,  but  well  knew  that  they 
were  now  to  be  taken  back  to  Deserters'  Island.  Sweet 
Jackson  marched  ahead,  followed  by  two  of  the  men ;  then 
came  the  prisoners,  followed  by  Jones  and  the  two  remain- 
ing deserters,  all  advancing  ia  single  file.  The  prisoners' 
hands  were  still  bound,  and  the  cruel  leader  of  the  party 
swore  that  he  would  not  allow  them  to  be  untied  until  the 
island  was  readied. 

Necessarily  this  caused  the  march  through  the  jungle  to 
be  much  more  difficult  and  painful  for  them  than  it  other- 
wise would  have  been.  Sometimes,  when  they  stumbled 
and  fell,  or  when  they  pushed  through  dense  and  thorny 
thickets,  being  unable  to  protect  themselves  with  their 
arms  and  hands,  they  received  many  painful  scratches  and 
blows  on  the  face  and  head.  This  was  hard  to  bear,  and 
ere  long  both  Asa  and  Charley  begged  that  their  bonds 
might  be  loosed. 

Joe  made  no  such  request ;  but  at  length,  toward  noon,  as 
they  entered  a  space  of  open  pine  barrens,  after  passing 
through  a  dense  jungle  full  of  thorny  brambles,  he  rebelled. 

"  I  won't  go  another  step  unless  you  untie  my  hands  ! " 
he  cried,  throwing  himself  down  on  tlie  grass.     The  boy's 


166  IN  THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

face  was  bleeding  in  several  places  from  scratches  just 
received. 

"  Jes'  let  me  git  a  hold  o'  him  ! "  cried  Jackson,  turning 
back  when  he  saw  what  had  occurred,  and  cutting  a  long 
stout  oak  switch. 

"  My  hands  are  tied,  and  I  know  you  are  devil  enough 
to  beat  me  to  death,"  said  Joe,  with  blazing  eyes  and  un- 
flinching calm,  "  but  I  won't  budge  ! " 

"  Now  look-a  h-yer,  Sweet  Jackson,  this  is  gwine  a  little 
too  fur,"  interposed  Bud  Jones.  "  In  time  of  war  some  of 
us  has  to  do  despe'rte  things,  but  ther'  ain't  notliin'  to 
jestify  you  in  beatin'  that  boy." 

"  'Tend  to  yer  own  business  ! "  cried  Jackson.  •'  He 's 
got  to  mind  me  or  take  a  whippin'." 

"What  if  you  can't  make  him  ?  I  kin  tell  by  his  looks 
he  don't  aim  to  budge,  beat  him  ez  much  ez  yer  will. 
He 's  got  the  spunk  of  two  or  three  men  like  some  I  know. 
Besides  tliat,  he 's  got  right  on  his  side.  Hit  ain't  right 
and  hit  ain't  reason  to  make  him  go  thoo  these  bushes 
with  his  hands  tied." 

"  No,  hit  ain't,"  chimed  in  th-e  other  men. 

"  No  sense  in  it  nohow,"  continued  Jones,  encouraged 
by  the  approval  of  the  Qthers.  "  How  in  the  dickens  kin 
he  git  away  ?  " 

"  I  depend  I  know  what  I  'm  a-doin',"  rejoined  Jackson, 
angrily.  He  seemed  determined  not  to  yield,  and  gave 
utterance  to  many  outrageous  oaths  before  he  finally 
cooled  down  enough  to  be  willing  to  a  compromise. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  you  kin  untie  the  boys,  but 
the  nigger 's  got  to  stay  tied." 


SOLDIER'S   WIDOW  OR   DESERTER'S    WIFE?    167 

"  It  hurts  Asa  just  as  much  as  it  hurts  us,"  declared 
Joe,  with  the  same  unflinching  manner,  "  and  unless  you 
untie  him  too,  I  won't  move  —  I  don't  care  what  you 
do  ! " 

"  Oh,  Mas'  Joe ! "  exclaimed  Asa,  who  had  heard  every- 
thing, and  who  gazed  at  his  champion  with  an  expression 
of  countenance  in  which  wonder  and  gratitude  struggled 
on  equal  terms. 

This  was  the  occasion  of  a  fresh  squabble  and  further 
conflict  of  opinion,  emphasized  by  strong  oaths ;  but  in 
the  end  the  determined  boy  had  his  way. 

The  party  reached  the  deserters'  island  camp  at  sun- 
down, and  great  was  the  surprise  and  sensation  caused  by 
their  arrival.  Tlie  half-witted  Billy  was  more  than  well 
pleased  at  the  return  of  the  two  boys,  capering  around 
them  and  shouting  in  the  expression  of  his  delight.  But 
Bubber  Hardy  became  very  angry  when  he  learned  that 
Joe  and  Charley  had  been  captured  within  ten  miles  of 
their  home  and  brought  back  to  the  island  prison,  and  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  speak  his  mind.  It  was  as  nmch  as 
the  other  men  could  do  to  prevent  a  hand-to-hand  en- 
counter between  him  and  the  furious  Jackson.  Even 
after  the  boys  had  been  given  some  supper,  and  had 
climbed  into  the  familiar  loft  and  lain  down  to  sleep,  they 
heard  the  two  men  still  quarrelling  over  the  camp-fire. 

"  Got  to  be  a  deviation  somewhere,"  muttered  Asa,  as 
lie  was  shut  up  for  the  night.  "  Ez  Mis'  Jackson  tole  de 
boys,  dis  sort  o'  bizness  can't  last  forever." 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE    PROBLEM    IS    SOLVED. 

AT  breakfast  the  next  morning  Joe  observed  that 
neither  Bubber  Hardy  nor  Sweet  Jackson  seemed 
disposed  to  talk.  The  former  looked  depressed,  the  latter 
sullen ;  and  such  conversation  as  there  was  had  no  reference 
to  either,  or  their  recent  and  violent  quarrel.  The  two 
leading  and  conflicting  spirits  of  the  camp  appeared  to 
liave  agreed  on  a  truce,  or  to  be  biding  their  time.  The 
boy  may  be  pardoned  for  hoping  that  truce  there  was 
none,  since  this  would  almost  inevitably  result  in  tlie 
continued  detention  of  the  prisoners. 

Joe  also  noted  that  Lofton's  wound  was  fast  healing, 
but  thought  it  likely  that  he  would  wear  to  his  grave  an 
ugly  scar  all  across  the  left  side  of  his  forehead  and  his 
left  cheek.  The  covert,  unfriendly  glances  whicli  he  now 
and  tlien  directed  toward  the  sullen  Jackson  were  proof 
to  the  observant  lad  that  he  meditated  revenge. 

After  breakfast  Hardy  called  Joe  aside  and  asked  for 
an  account  of  his  and  Charley's  wanderings  since  the 
night  of  their  escape  from  the  island.  This  the  boy  very 
willingly  gave,  being  desirous  to  please  the  only  friend  — 
barring  Asa  —  whom  he  and  his  brother  could  rely  on 
wliile  in  their  present  position.  He,  however,  spoke 
guardedly  of  their  experiences  on  Blackjack  Island,  being 


THE   PROBLEM  IS  SOLVED.  169 

unwilling  to  let  slip  the  remotest  hint  of  the  plans  of  the 
distinguished  man  residing  there.  The  boy  was  too  astute 
not  to  have  begun  long  ere  this  to  suspect  that  his  much- 
named  friend  had  exaggerated  his  own  importance ;  but  he 
still  felt  confident  that  the  solitary  denizen  of  Blackjack 
was,  as  claimed,  a  soldier,  and  that  he  had  designs  on  the 
deserters.  So  he  merely  stated  the  fact  that  they  had 
found  a  hunter  on  that  island  who  had  been  very  kind  to 
them. 

"  Oh,  you  run  up  on  George  Smith,  did  you  ? "  asked 
Bubber,  smiling. 

"  Why,  do  i/oic  know  Mr.  George  Washington  Jefferson 
Jackson  Smith  ?  "  asked  Joe,  amazed. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him.  I  reckon  he  told  you  a  long  string 
o'  lies,  did  n't  he  ?  That 's  like  him.  He  's  the  biggest 
liar,  the  biggest  coward,  and  the  cussedest  fool  I  ever  laid 
eyes  on.  He  was  the  first  deserter  to  locate  in  this  h-yer 
swamp,  and  he 's  been  in  h-yer  gwine  on  three  year." 

"What!"  gasped  Joe,  his  faith  in  mankind  quaking. 
"  Then  he  is  not  the  great  soldier  and  counsellor,  the  friend 
of  General  Lee  ? " 

"  He  never  laid  eyes  on  General  Lee.  That  piny- 
woods  Cracker  the  counsellor  of  General  Lee  !  He  want 
nothin'  but  a  common  foot  soldier,  and  he  want  that  long. 
He  deserted  after  the  first  battle  he  was  ever  in." 

"  Well,  he  fooled  mc ! "  exclaimed  Joe,  greatly  crest- 
fallen, and  almost  ashamed  of  himself.  "  But  I  thought 
there  must  be  something  wrong  about  that  man,"  the  boy 
declared,  after  a  moment. 

"  I  thought  he  looked  like  a  ram-goat,"  said  Charley,  who 


170  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

had  approached  and  overheard  the  greater  part  of  what  had 
been  said. 

"  He  told  me  ho  was  detailed  to  look  after  the  deserters 
iu  tliis  swamp,"  continued  Joe. 

"  Oh,  he  did,  did  he  ?  "  laughed  Bubher.  "  Sometimes  I 
think  George  Smith's  brains  must  be  half  addled  when  he 
gits  started  on  a  yarn.  He  a  great  soldier !  Why,  he  turned 
and  run  the  very  first  time  he  was  under  fire.  They  tell 
me  he  went  runnin'  and  hollerin',  '  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  a  baby  ! 
I  wish  I  was  a  gal  baby  ! '  " 

"  At  least  he  has  a  kind  heart,"  Joe  was  generous  enough 
to  say,  after  having  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks. 

It  so  happened  that  the  deserters  scattered  widely  that 
afternoon,  and  the  camp  was  almost  deserted.  For  some 
time  no  one  seemed  to  be  left  on  guard  but  Sweet  Jackson, 
who  lay  upon  the  grass  and  dozed.  Joe  watched  this  man, 
their  worst  enemy,  narrowly,  thoughts  of  an  attempted 
escape  in  his  mind,  as  he  stood  cleaning  his  gun  not  far 
away.  Asa  worked  among  his  pots  and  pans  at  the  fire, 
talking  with  Charley.  The  hapless  Billy,  after  being  absent 
for  an  hour,  had  shown  liimself  again,  and  now  squatted  in 
the  grass  just  beyond  the  borders  of  tlie  clearing. 

It  was  about  four  o'  clock  when  Sweet  roused  up  and 
stood  erect,  calling  roughly  for  some  water. 

"  De  ain't  none  fresh ;  lemme  go  git  you  some  fresh," 
said  Asa,  hastily,  taking  up  the  tin  bucket  as  he  spoke. 

"  Never  mind ;  go  on  with  your  work,"  said  Sweet,  yawn- 
ing. "  I  '11  send  Billy.  Billy  is  my  nigger.  Billy  !  Oh, 
Billy!"  he  called. 


THE   PROBLEM  IS   SOLVED.  171 

But  Billy  made  no  answer.  Asa  indicated  the  where- 
abouts of  the  boy,  and  Sweet  took  a  few  steps  forward. 

"  You  Billy !  Why  don't  you  answer  me  ? "  he  called 
angrily. 

But  the  boy  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  contemplating 
some  object  on  the  ground  in  front  of  him,  and  gave  no 
sign  of  hearing. 

"  I  depend  I  '11  everlas'nly  make  him  hear  me ! "  cried 
Sweet,  enraged,  breaking  a  long  stout  switch  and  stripping 
off  the  leaves. 

The  absorbed  Billy  did  not  even  turn  his  head  when  the 
sound  of  hurried  footsteps  in  the  grass  fell  on  his  ear.  Not 
until  the  switch  descended  heavily  on  his  back,  did  he  start 
and  look  up  with  the  air  of  one  rudely  awakened  from  a 
dream. 

"  I  'II  I'arn  you  to  fool  with  me ! "  cried  the  infuriated 
Sweet,  raining  down  blows,  beneath  which  the  boy  seemed 
to  stagger  as  he  attempted  to  rise.  But  once  upon  his  feet, 
he  leaped  forward  beyond  reacli,  and  faced  his  foe,  a  strange 
glow  in  his  eyes. 

Sweet  sprang  after  him  with  uplifted  switch,  when  he 
suddenly  became  aware  that  he  had  trodden  upon  some  soft 
living  body,  which  yielded  beneath  his  w^eight  and  struggled 
in  a  peculiar,  writhing  way.  At  the  same  instant  he  heard 
a  harsh  rattling  sound,  and,  as  bis  glance  swept  downward,- 
he  saw  that  he  stood  upon  a  rattlesnake. 

Had  he  kept  his  position,  he  might  have  escaped  un- 
harmed, for  his  feet  were  on  its  body  near  the  neck.  The 
reptile,  probably  sharing  Billy's  strange  trance,  had  been, 
like  him,  taken  unawares.     But  Sweet  in  his  sudden  terror 


172  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

leaped  upward  and  forward.  As  he  moved,  the  rattler 
struck  him  on  the  right  leg  just  above  the  ankle.  The 
effect  of  the  man's  leap  was  only  to  fasten  securely  in 
his  flesh  the  snake's  hooked  fangs.  Uttering  wild  cries, 
the  unfortunate  deserter  dashed  hither  and  thither,  drag- 
ging after  him  the  struggling  snake. 

A  laugh  at  such  a  moment  was  truly  the  most  unexpected 
and  cruel  thing  in  the  world,  yet  that  is  what  Joe,  Charley, 
and  Asa,  who  had  drawn  near,  now  heard.  They  knew  with- 
out looking  that  it  was  the  half-witted  boy  who  laughed. 
He  did  not  stop  there ;  he  danced  about,  and  .shouted  again 
and  again, — 

"  That 's  right,  son !     Stick  to  him,  son  ! " 

Charley  knew  then  that  the  snake  was  the  j)et  which  he 
had  once  been  permitted  to  see. 

"  That 's  right,  son  ! "  shouted  Billy.  "  Give  it  to  him  ! 
That 's  what  he  gets  for  jumpin'  on  me." 

Calling  madly  for  help.  Sweet  ran  staggering  toward 
the  camp. 

"  Beat  liim  off  o'  mel  Beat  him  off  o'  me  1 "  he  cried, 
looking  toward  Asa  and  the  boys. 

The  rattler  was  as  much  a  prisoner  as  his  victim,  and 
would  gladly  have  let  go  and  escaped.  Had  Sweet  seized 
tlie  snake  by  the  neck  and  lifted  it,  the  fangs  could  have 
been  loosened  in  a  moment ;  but  fear  seemed  to  deprive  him 
of  reason,  and  he  did  nothing  but  spring  about  and  yell. 

"We  nmst  do  something,"  cried  Joe,  recovering  from 
the  stupefaction  of  the  first  few  moments.  Seizing  an 
axe,  he  ran  forward  and  dealt  the  snake  a  blow,  severing  a 
few  inches  of  its  tail,  but  not  loosening  its  unwilling  hold. 


THE  PROBLEM  IS   SOLVED.  173 

Immediately  after  this,  Sweet  stumbled  and  fell  prone  on 
the  ground,  crying  out  the  more  from  fear  of  closer  con- 
tact with  the  snake.  But  the  effect  of  the  fall  was  to 
loosen  the  imprisoned  fangs,  and  the  rattler  would  now  have 
glided  rapidly  away,  had  not  Joe  and  Asa  set  upon  it  with 
sticks,  quickly  despatching  it,  much  to  the  indignation  and 
sorrow  of  Billy. 

This  done,  they  turned  to  the  unfortunate  Sweet,  who  was 
now  tearing  off  shoe  and  sock  in  a  hurried,  terrified  way,  and 
groaning  aloud.     The  wound  had  already  begun  to  swell. 

"  Can  we  do  anything  for  you,  Mr.  Jackson  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  do  ! "  was  the  despairing 
answer.  "  Eun,  go  call  Bubber  and  the  rest  of  'em.  Maybe 
they'll  know." 

Joe  and  Charley  then  ran  out  of  the  clearing,  shouting, 
and  in  about  twenty  minutes  returned  with  Bubber  and 
three  of  the  other  men.  As  they  approached  they  saw  Asa 
preparing  to  cut  the  body  of  a  fresh-killed  partridge  in  half, 
the  neck  having  just  been  wrung  off  Sweet  now  lay  upon 
his  back  on  the  grass,  shuddering  with  horror. 

"  If  anybody 's  got  any  whiskey  hid  off  anywhere,"  said 
Bubber,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  "  let 's  have  it.  Now 's  the 
time  to  fetch  it  out." 

He  looked  from  one  face  to  another,  as  heads  were 
shaken,  until  one  of  the  deserters  turned  and  moved  away, 
remarking  that  he  had  a  "leetle  smodgykin  "  saved  up  for 
a  time  of  need,  and  would  get  it.  He  walked  off  into  the 
woods,  and  returned  shortly  with  a  small  bottle  containing 
less  than  half  a  pint  of  colorless  whiskey.  This  was  forth- 
with poured  down  Sweet's  throat. 


174  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

Stout  cords  were  then  tied  as  tiglitly  as  possible  round 
the  leg  above  and  below  the  wound,  in  order  to  check  the 
circulation  of  the  poisoned  blood,  and  the  raw  quivering- 
flesh  of  the  partridge  was  pressed  bard  on  the  wound  itself, 
acting  as  an  absorbent. 

Several  birds  were  slain,  one  after  another,  and  as  soon  as 
one  bleeding  half  was  taken  from  the  wound  another  half 
was  applied.  Asa  had  suggested  that  the  raw  flesh  of  the 
rattler  be  applied  in  lieu  of  the  partridge ;  but  this  the  pois- 
oned man  would  not  permit. 

But  by  nightfall  Sweet's  leg  was  startlingly  swollen, 
and  he  had  begun  to  wander  in  his  mind.  It  was  plain 
that  too  much  time  had  been  lost  while  the  snake  hung 
from  its  victim,  and  while  the  men  were  being  summoned. 

Charley  had  meanwhile  described  how  he  had  one  day 
been  invited  to  visit  the  snake  at  its  hole;  how  Billy  had 
fed  it,  and  seemed  to  be  on  friendly  and  familiar  terms 
with  it.  Joe  and  Asa  also  testified  tliat  the  boy,  having 
evidently  enticed  tlie  snake  to  the  clearing,  was  playing 
with  the  reptile  when  Sweet  set  upon  him  with  the  switch. 
No  one  forgot  that  Jackson  was  of  an  ugly  temper,  and 
treated  the  poor  boy  cruelly ;  but  none  the  less  was  Billy 
now  looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  aversion,  and  by  com- 
mon consent  he  was  shut  up  in  tlie  prison-pen  built  for  Asa. 

The  majority  of  the  men  seeujed  to  suspect  that  he  was 
no  less  than  a  fully  equipped  conjurer;  and  the  next  day 
some  of  them  took  the  precaution  of  putting  red  pepper 
in  their  shoes  as  a  safeguard  against  witchcraft.  The 
y»oisoned  man  grew  worse  and  worse  ;  and  soon  after  mid- 
night he  died  in  great  agony. 


THE  PROBLEM  IS   SOLVED.  175 

After  this  a  profound  hush  fell  on  the  bustling  camp. 
Joe  and  Charley  retired  to  the  loft ;  but  all  the  men  sat 
about  the  fire  and  watched  till  break  of  day.  Arranging 
the  limbs  and  covering  the  face  of  the  dead,  they  freshened 
the  fire  and  sat  down  to  wait  with  wide-open  eyes  and 
busy  thoughts.  Their  vigil  was  not  merely  to  protect  all 
that  was  left  of  Sweet  from  the  possible  attacks  of  wild 
animals,  but  to  conform  to  the  custom  of  their  people. 
Moreov^er,  no  one  cared  to  sleep.  ^Nlen  who  had  scarcely 
reflected  in  their  lives  felt  impelled  to  do  so  now.  Each 
thought  upon  past  deeds  and  upon  future  amends. 

The  blow  that  had  fallen  seemed  to  them  not  merely  a 
judgment  on  their  dead  friend,  but  on  them  all,  because 
of  the  selfish  and  unlawful  life  which  they  were  living. 
But  wlien  at  last  the  morning  broke,  only  one  of  the  eight 
still  kept  faith  with  his  resolves  of  the  niglit.  The  others 
had  felt  no  more  than  that  sham  repentance  which  is 
active  only  when  in  tlie  presence  of  fear. 

Awaking  rather  late  next  morning,  Joe  and  Charley 
heard  the  sound  of  carpenters'  tools,  and,  descending  the 
ladder,  saw  several  of  the  men  engaged  in  making  a  rough 
coffin.  Others  were  digging  a  grave  several  hundred 
yards  out  on  the  open  ridge.  By  the  time  Asa  had  given 
the  boys  something  to  eat,  the  coffin  was  ready  and  the 
body  was  placed  in  it.  Then  four  of  the  men  lifted  it,  and 
bore  it  to  the  grave,  followed  by  all  except  Billy,  who  was 
still  in  prison. 

One  of  the  deserters,  called  Arch  Thatcher,  had  formerly 
been  a  lay  preacher.  He  now  offered  a  prayer,  sung  a 
hymn,  in  which  a  few  others  joined,   and  made  a  few 


176  IN   THE   OKEFEXOKEE. 

remarks  about  the  vanities  of  the  world,  after  which  the 
coffin  was  lowered  aud  the  earth  thrown  in.  It  was  then, 
as  all  were  ready  to  return  to  camp,  that  Bubber  cleared 
his  throat  and  stepped  forward. 

"  I  don't  know  hardly  what  to  say,  men,"  he  began, 
paused,  then  continued :  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is  with 
you-all;  but  as  for  me  I  don't  feel  right,  and  I  aim  to  make 
a  change.  I  'm  tired  playiu'  sneakin'  suck-egg  dog,  aud 
from  this  on  I  expects  to  try  to  be  a  man.  I  'm  a-goin' 
back  to  the  tight  myself;  I  don't  care  what  the  rest  of  ye 
do.  You  kin  stay  right  on  h-yer,  men,  if  you  hanker  to 
stay,  and  I  won't  tell  on  ye  ;  but  as  for  me,  I  'm  a-goin'  to 
take  these  boys  home  and  then  go  back  to  the  fight. 
Anybody  got  anything  to  say  agin  it  ? " 

He  paused  and  looked  around.  No  one  spoke.  Joe's, 
Charley's,  and  Asa's  were  the  only  bright  faces  which  met 
his  gaze.     The  others  were  downcast. 

"I  got  just  one  thing  to  ask  o'  you-all,*  he  continued, 
looking  at  one  or  two  of  the  leading  spirits  among  the 
men.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  to  take  Billy  home  to  his 
people.  You  know  whar  to  find  'em.  'T  ain't  fur.  Sweet 
was  kin  to  Billy  himself,  but  I'm  free  to  say  he  didn't 
have  no  right  to  fetch  him  in  h-yer." 

"  We  '11  be  mighty  willin',  I  'm  a-thinkin',''  responded 
the  man  called  Thatcher.  "  We  '11  be  glad  enough  to  git 
rid  of  'im.  We  don't  want  no  sicli  around.  Fust  thing 
we  know  he  '11  be  tolin'  up  another  rattlesnake." 

"  I  'm  a-goin'  to  take  Asa  aud  the  two  boys  and  start 
to-day,"  announced  Bubber.  "  And  I  'm  a-goin'  to  take 
my  share  of  the  skins,  too.     We  'U  have  to  take  two  o' 


THE   PROBLEM  IS   SOLVED.  177 

the  boats ;  but  we  '11  leave  'era  in  the  old  place  on  t'  other 
side  the  prairie,  and  to-morrow  three  of  ye  kin  go  over  in 
t'  other  boat,  and  bring  'em  all  back.  Now  if  anybody 's 
got  anything  to  say  agin  it,  let  him  sny  so  right  now,  and 
we  '11  settle  it  right  h-yer  'fore  we  quit." 

But  no  one  made  a  reply,  and  the  plan  was  understood 
as  settled.  Dislike  the  arrangement  as  they  might,  none 
of  the  men  felt  disposed  to  stand  forth  and  challenge  the 
"  cock  of  the  walk." 

Calling  Asa,  Bubber  ordered  him  to  proceed  at  once  to 
the  cooking  of  a  "  snack  "  for  their  proposed  journey,  then 
turned  away  to  make  other  preparations  on  his  own  ac- 
count. Left  to  themselves,  the  two  happy  boys  were  not 
slow  to  collect  their  few  treasures  and  otherwise  prepare 
for  the  march. 

The  other  seven  men  hung  about  the  grave,  talking 
gloomily  and  in  low  tones,  not,  however,  of  the  virtues 
or  vices  of  the  dead,  but  of  their  own  situation  and  doubt- 
ful prospects.  The  dead  man  had  few,  if  any,  real  friends, 
having  maintained  the  ascendency  which  he  enjoyed,  not 
by  the  power  of  sterling  character,  but  by  the  force  of  will 
and  muscle.  His  truculent  nature  had  often  been  the  sub- 
ject of  comment  with  the  two  boys;  but  since  the  liour  of 
the  tragedy  their  tlioughts  had  been  filled  only  with  pity  for 
the  unhappy  man  who  was  less  their  enemy  than  he  was 
his  own.  As  they  turned  away  after  the  burial,  however, 
Charley  gave  expression  to  a  thought  which  was  in  Joe's 
mind  also. 

"  "Well,"  said  the  little  fellow,  innocently,  "  I  hope  Mrs. 
Jackson  will  get  a  better  husband  now." 

12 


CHAPTER   XX. 

HO.ME   AT   LAST. 

TWO  hours  later  tlie  seven  deserters  saw  tlie  last  of 
tlieir  former  comrade,  as  the  boats  pulled  away  from 
the  landing,  and  began  the  difficult  struggle  across  the 
prairie.  One  carried  Bubber  Hardy,  together  with  his 
liides,  strapped  in  two  small,  but  heavy  bales.  The  other 
contained  Asa,  Joe,  and  Cliarley,  who  was  the  last  to  step 
on  board,  he  having  halted  in  order  to  peep  through  the 
cracks  of  the  prison-liouse  and  call  out  a  good-by  to  his 
hapless  friend  Billy. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  they  landed. 
Saying  they  had  no  time  to  lose,  Bubber  gave  one  bale 
of  hides  to  Asa,  shouldered  the  other  himself,  and  led 
the  way.     The   boys   followed  v^ith  their  own  belongings. 

After  a  march  of  some  three-quarters  of  a  mile  through 
a  forest,  which  thickened  as  they  proceeded,  the  skins  were 
thrown  down  under  a  tree  and  abandoned ;  and  the  party 
pushed  on  a  full  half  a  mile  farther  before  a  spot  suitable 
for  a  camp  was  found. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  down ;  but  it  was  by  no  means  a 
waste  of  time  to  halt.  Bark  must  be  stripped  from  the 
cypresses  to  spread  on  the  damp  ground ;  moss  or  leaves 
must  be  gathered,  in  order  to  soften  what  would  otherwise 


HOME  AT  LAST.  179 


be  a  very  hard  couch  ;  fuel  must  be  collected,  a  fire  built, 
and  supper  cooked.  Giving  Asa  some  directions,  Bubber 
walked  off  into  the  woods.  An  hour  later  it  had  grown 
dark,  and  he  had  not  yet  returned. 

"He  must  have  changed  his  mind,  and  gone  back  to 
the  deserters,"  said  Joe  at  last,  uneasily. 

"  He  des  gone  off  ter  hide  dera  skins,  —  dat  wut  he  up 
ter,"  was  Asa's  confident  rejoinder ;  and  a  few  minutes 
later  Bubber  reappeared. 

It  seemed  to  the  boys  that  their  hardships  and  miseries 
were  already  over.  They  ate  heartily  of  the  supper,  slept 
soundly  all  night,  and  during  the  long,  difficult  march  of 
eight  hours  next  day,  did  not  once  straggle  behind  or  lose 
lieart.  When  they  finally  entered  the  open  pine  woods 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  swamp,  they  could  scarcely  re- 
strain  shouts   of  delight. 

Joe  particularly  felt  happy.  His  great  plan  had  indeed 
failed;  but  still  his  hopes  were  in  a  measure  realized.  He 
had  not  persuaded  a  whole  band  of  deserters  to  return  to 
the  war ;  but  after  a  long  sojourn  among  them  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  the  Okefenokee,  he  was  now  on  the  threshold  of 
the  outer  world,  accompanied  by  the  lost  Asa  and  at  least 
one  penitent,  convinced  of  the  error  of  his  ways. 

As  the  familiar  double-pen  log-house  came  into  view, 
the  boys  were  gladdened  at  sight  of  smoke  issuing 
from  the  chimneys.  Somebody  was  there ;  perhaps  their 
father  and  mother  and  sister.  They  quickened  their  steps, 
looking  forward  expectantly. 

Drawing  nearer,  they  observed  with  surprise  that  a 
soldier  stood  all  alone  at  the  uate.     He  saw  them  almost 


180  IN   THE    OKEFENOKEE. 

at  the  same  moment,  and,  after  a  searching  glance,  he 
walked  hnrriedly  to  meet  them.     It  was  Captain  Marshall. 

"  Joe  !  Charley  !  Is  it  possible  ? "  he  exclaimed,  when 
they  had  met,  putting  his  hands  on  their  shoulders  in  a 
glad  way.  "  Where  have  you  been  ?  The  whole  country 
has  been  searched  for  you." 

In  a  few  hurried  words  Joe  outlined  the  story  of  their 
adventures,  not  forgetting  to  mention  Bubber's  resolve 
to  re-enlist. 

"  I  reckon  they  won't  shout  me  if  I  give  up  and  go  back 
to  the  fight,  will  they,  Cap'n  Marshall  ? "  asked  Bubber, 
humbly,  with  the  air  of  one  prepared  to  meet  his  fate. 

"  Your  repentance  comes  too  late,"  answered  the  captain, 
sternly  and  sadly.     "  The  war  is  over." 

The  deserter  started  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow,  and 
drew  back,  his  face  a  living  picture  of  shame  and  regret. 

"  And  we  brought  Asa,  too,"  cried  Joe,  proudly,  not 
taking  in  the  captain's  meaning,  so  great  was  his  joy  and 
so  turbulent  his  thoughts. 

"Too  late  again,"  said  Captain  Marsliall.  "Asa  is  now 
free." 

Asa  looked  about  him  in  bewilderment,  and  Bubber 
repeated  mournfully,  "  The  war  is  over ! " 

Joe  caught  the  words  this  time,  and,  with  a  great  gulp 
in  his  tln'oat,  asked  what  all  this  meant. 

"General  Lee  surrendered  at  Appomatto.x  on  the  ninth 
of  April,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  And  I  can  never  be  a  soldier  ! "  exclaimed  the  boy, 
in  great  sorrow,  after  asking  a  few  more  questions. 

"  You   can   at   least   be   a   brave    man,"    said    Captain 


The   Welcome   lloine.  —  /'/;'(•   i8i. 


HOME  AT  LAST.  181 


Marshall,  no  less  .  "  But  run  into  the  house,  boys  ; 

be  quick  \ "  he  added,  turning  to  move  away.  "  Go  to 
your  mother  and  sister.  They  have  been  almost  distracted 
about  you." 

After  their  mother  and  sister  had  kissed  them  many 
times  and  wept  over  them ;  after  their  dear  old  father  had 
held  them  against  his  heart,  and  all  had  looked  at  them 
long  and  fondly  ;  after  many  questions  had  been  asked 
and  answered,  and  their  long  story  had  been  told  almost 
in  detail ;  after  night  had  fallen,  and  the  reunited  family 
were  seated  together  over  their  evening  meal,  —  Joe  remem- 
bered the  partner  in  their  late  misfortunes,  and  abruptly 
addressed  his  father,  making  an  unexpected  request. 

"I  want  to  give  my  gun  to  Asa,"  he  said.  "He  has 
none,  and  I  know  he  wants  one.     May  I,  father  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He  deserves  to  be  rewarded." 

"  I  want  to  give  him  something,  too,  papa,"  ciied 
Charley,  "  He  was  so  good  to  us  !  You  ought  to  have 
seen  him  when  we  were  ruunin'  from  the  deserters.  He 
let  me  ride  on  his  back  a  long  ways,  and  I  know  he  was 
tired.  What  can  I  give  him,  papa  ?  I  could  give  him 
my  hatchet,  but  that  would  n't  be  mucli." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  you  can  give  him,"  said  the  father, 
well  pleased  to  see  these  generous  impulses  in  his  sons; 
"you  can  give  him  a  piece  of  land.  He  is  free  now,  and 
may  want  to  set  up  for  himself.  I  am  not  a  rich  man 
any  longer,  but  I  can  afford  to  give  Asa  a  few  acres.  I  '11 
give  1/021  the  land,  and  then  you  can  give  it  to  him." 

"  Oh  thank  you,  papa,"  cried  Cliarley,  delighted,  and 
soon  ran  away  to  tell  tlie  negro  of  his  good  fortune. 


182  IN   THE   OKEFENOKEE. 

"  Mr.  Hardy  was  very  good  to  us,  too,"  said  Joe.  "  But 
for  him,  we  should  have  had  a  hard  time  in  that  deserter 
camp.  I  hope  Captain  Marshall  and  the  soldiers  won't 
do  anything  to  him." 

"  He  will  not  be  molested  now.  The  war  is  over,  and 
the  remnants  of  our  armies  are  disbanding  everywhere. 
But  he  will  be  disgraced  for  life,  and  deserves  his  fate, 
however  kind  he  may  have  been  to  you." 

Though  a  sense  of  strict  justice  might  dictate  it,  to  the 
boy  this  speech  seemed  stern,  considering  the  deserter's 
active  and  complete  repentance  ;  and  lie  could  not  help 
hoping  that  Bubber  Hardy  would  in  time  M'in  the  full 
confidence  and  respect  of  his  fellow-men. 

pis  father  told  him  that  night  that  it  was  well  the  war 
was  oyer ;  but  Joe  was  a  long  time  in  recovering  from  his 
first  feeling  of  disappointment  and  regret.  Not  so  Charley, 
who  became  deeply  absorbed  in  other  things  as  soon  as 
Martha  confided  to  him  a  great  secret,  —  which  was  that 
she  was  encraojed  in  bakiu";  a  wedding  cake. 


THK   END, 


Messrs.  Roberts  Broihers'  Publications. 

VOYAGE  OF  THE  LIBERDADE 

BY  CAPTAIN  JOSHUA  SLOCUM. 
Illustiated.    4to,  Cloth.    Pries,  $1.00. 


\l       i1 


'*i^. 


The  "Voyage  of  the  Liberdade"  reads  like  a  romance,  but  is,  nevertheless,  the 
faithful  account  of  a  marvellous  experience  in  the  career  of  that  indomitable  Yankee 
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his  family,  made  a  journey  of  5,000  miles  in  the  face  of  perils  calculated  to  terrifv 
many  of  the  hardiest  is  told  without  any  attempt  at  rhetorical  garnish,  yet  with  a 
clearness  that  gives  it  a  permanent  literary  value. 


Sold  everywhere.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 
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THE  LITTLE  LADY  OF  THE  HORSE. 


r-_:--^ 


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AUTHOR   OF   "BETTY   A    BUTTERFLY,"    AND   "THE    LITTLE 
SISTER    OF   WILIFRED." 


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THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  KITTIEWINK. 

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THE   WRKCK   OF   THE    "  KITTIKWINK." 

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expressed  it,  "That  there  craft  wasn't  no  teaspoon."  A  capital  good  boat  she 
proved  to  be,  and  a  prime  story  has  Mr.  Ward  written,  giving  the  adventures  of 
Hall,  Algernon,  and  last  but  not  least,  of  Trot,  the  terrier.  "The  Captain  of 
the  Kittiewink  "  is  just  the  kind  of  story  to  give  boys  the  yachting  madness.  — 
New  York  Titnes. 


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By  the  Authoy  of  "  Jolly  Good  Times."' 

THEIR  CANOE  TRIP. 

By    MARY    P.    \V.    SMITH, 

AUTHOR  OF    THE    "'BROWNS." 


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would  like  to  act  out  m  reality.  —  T/ie  Critic. 

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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers   Publications. 

TREASURE    ISLAND: 

3  .^toriJ  of  rijc  ^panisij  iHain, 
By    ROBERT    LOUIS    STEVENSON 

With  Illustrations  by  F   T.  Merrill. 
i6mo.    Cloth.  Si.oo  ;  paper  covers,  50  cents. 


''  Buried  treasure  is  one  of  the  vers-  foundanocis   of  romance  Phis  is 

the  theory  on  which  Mr  Stevenson  has  written  'Treasure  Island.'  Primarily 
It  IS  a  book  for  boys,  with  a  boy-hv,ro  and  a  string  of  wonderful  adventures. 
But  it  is  a  book  for  boys  which  will  be  delightful  to  all  grown  men  who  have  the 
sentiment  of  treasure-hunting  and  are  touched  with  the  true  spirit  of  the  Spanish 
Main.  Like  aU  Mr  Stevenson's  good  work,  it  is  touched  with  genius.  It  ia 
written  —  in  that  crisp,  choice,  nervous  English  of  which  he  has  the  secret — with 
sach  a  union  of  measure  and  force  as  to  be  in  its  way  a  masterpiece  of  narrative. 
It  is  rich  in  ex,:ellent  characterization,  in  an  abundant  invention,  in  a  certain  grim 
romance,  in  a  vein  of  what  must,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  be  described  as  melo- 
drama, which  is  both  thrilling  and  peculiar  It  is  the  work  of  one  who  knows  aj 
there  is  to  be  known  about  '  Robinson  Crusoe,'  and  to  whom  Dumas  is  some- 
thing more  than  a  great  aKtusatr ;  and  it  is  in  some  ways  the  best  thmg  he  has 
produced"  — London  Saturday  Review 

"  His  story  is  skilfully  constructed,  and  related  mth  untiring  vivacity  and  genuine 
dramatic  power.  It  is  calculated  to  fascinate  the  old  boy  as  well  as  the  young, 
the  reader  of  Smollett  and  Dr.  Moore  and  Marryatt  as  well  as  the  admirer  of  the 
dexterous  ingenuity  of  Poe.  It  deals  with  a  mystenous  island,  a  buried  treastire, 
the  bold  buccaneer,  and  all  the  stirring  incidents  of  a  merry  life  on  the  Main.  .  . 
We  can  only  add  that  we  shall  be  surprised  if  '  Treasure  Island  '  does  not  satisfy 
the  most  exacting  lover  of  perilous  adventures  and  thrilUng  situations." — London 
A  cadeniy. 

■'  -A.ny  one  who  has  read  '  The  Xew  Arabian  Nights '  will  recognize  at  once 
jfr  Stevenson's  qualifications  for  telling  a  good  buccaneer  story.  Mr.  Steven- 
son's genius  is  not  wholly  unlike  that  of  Poe,  but  it  is  Poe  strongly  impregnated 
with  Marryatt  Yet  we  doubt  if  either  of  those  writers  ever  succeeded  in  making 
a  reader  identify  himself  with  the  supposed  narrator  of  a  story,  as  he  cannot  faD 
to  do  m  the  present  case.  As  we  follow  the  narrative  of  the  boy  Jim  Hawkini 
we  hold  our  breath  in  his  dangers,  and  breathe  again  at  his  escapes." —  L<mdon 
A  thetuButn. 

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LOUISA  M.  ALOOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS. 


JACK  AND  JILL:    A  Village  Story.     With  Illustrations. 
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TOM.    A  Home  Story.    By  George  L.  Chaney.    IGmo 
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F.  GRANT  &  CO. ;  OR,  PARTNERSHIPS.  A  story 
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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

The  New  Harry  and  Lucy. 

A  Story  of  Boston  in  the  Summer  of  1891.  By 
Edward  E.  Hale  and  Lucretia  P.  Hale.  With 
illustrations  by  Herbert  D.  Hale.  i6mo,  cloth. 
Price,  $1.25. 


In  a  most  interesting  preface  the  authors  give  some  information  re- 
garding their  story,  which,  it  seems,  was  written  as  it  appeared  in  The 
Commonwealth,  and  had  no  plot  other  than  that  which  imfolded  week  by 
week.  The  hero  and  heroine  record  their  own  experiences  by  means  of 
letters,  —  he  to  his  mother,  and  she  to  a  girl  friend  at  home;  and  the  com- 
pleted story  is  exceedingly  natural  and  readable.  It  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  the  letters  of  any  two  bright,  wide-awake  people  might  not  combine 
into  a  most  acceptable  novel ;  and  as  the  two  authors  of  this  book  claim, 
such  a  record  of  the  life  of  any  city  during  a  few  months  or  years  would 
be  of  tremendous  interest  and  value  when  another  generation  should  take 
to  wondering  just  how  the  old-time  young  men  and  women  passed  their 
days,  and  how  the  city  which  they  knew  could  have  looked  an  hundred 
years  back.  So,  as  Dr.  Hale  says,  if  the  Public  Library  shall  have  pre- 
served a  copy  of  "  The  New  Harry  and  Lucy  "  when  the  twentieth  century 
shall  be  near  its  close,  this  story  of  Boston  life,  with  all  its  interesting 
information,  will  be  very  valuable.  And  as  nothing  that  Dr.  Hale  or  his 
gifted  sister  writes  can  be  ever  anything  but  interesting,  "The  New 
Harry  and  Lucy"  need  not  wait  for  appreciation  till  a  hundred  years  shall 
have  yellowed  its  printed  page. 

It  is  a  wide  awake,  interesting  story.  —  Boston   Times. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  state  that  as  a  book  for  young  people,  inspiriting  as 
well  as  instructivp,  and  entirely  innocent  in  its  fun,  this  is  nearly  perfect. 
And  no  book  written  by  Dr.  Hale  is  without  interest  to  intelligent  persons 
of  any  number  of  years.  —  New  Haven  Palladium. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

The  Gamekeeper  at  Hoaie. 

■Sketcfies  of  j!i<latiiral  ^Ifistorg  anti  Eiiral  Eifc. 

By  RICHARD  JEFFERIES. 

One  volume.    8vo.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Whymper. 
Price,  ^S-75'    ^  cheaper  edition,  price,  ^'i.^o. 


Richard  Jefferies,  whose  essays  on  subjects  of.  natural  history  and  rural  life 
are  the  most  appreciative  of  any  written  by  English  authors,  describes  work  and 
ways  but  little  known  to  American  readers  in  his  new  book,  "The  Gamekeeper 
at  Home."  It  is  an  out-door  experience,  dealing  directly,  and  with  little  senti- 
ment, with  the  ""urred  and  feathered  animals,  wild  and  domestic,  of  the  fields  and 
woods  around  him.  It  has  its  pleasures  from  association  with  Nature,  in  observa- 
tion and  sport,  which  tones  character  and  exhilarates  thought  and  action ;  but  it 
has  its  pains  from  the  poaching  of  villagers  and  otliers,  the  trespassing  of  destruc- 
tive birds  and  beasts,  and  routine  labor. 

It  is  the  part  of  the  author  to  put  himself  in  the  place  of  the  gamekeeper, 
and  describe  to  others  tliose  pleasures  and  pains.  ■  But  the  facts  are  from  his  own 
observation,  which  permits  of  criticism,  and  introduction  of  general  information, 
suggestive  of  his  characteristic  studies.  It  is  a  novel  subject,  and  has  great 
interest.  —  Boston  Globe. 

The  number  of  the  admirers  of  Richard  Jefferies  lias  steadily  increased  since 
his  death,  two  or  three  years  ago.  His  limpid  style,  his  love  for  outdoor  life  and 
sympathy  with  Nature,  his  keen  observation  of  plant  and  animal  characteristics, 
are  always  fresh  and  pleasing.  —  Christian  Union. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


BY    LEAFY   WAYS. 

■firicf  ^tttitcs  from  \\t  -^Sooti  of  J^aturc. 
Bv  FRANCIS  A.  KNIGHT, 

Author  cf  "  By  Moorland  and  Sea,"  and  '^Idylls  of  the  Field." 

ILLUSTRATED    BY  E.    T.    COMPTON. 

liimo.     Cloth,     rrice,  $1.50. 


The  author  studies  Nature  as  that  most  competent  of  all  naturalists,  a  poet. 
Every  bird-note  striking  on  his  ear  susgests  a  train  of  reflections,  even  the  snakes 
are  beautiful.  He  pleads  even  for  the  crows,  the  magpie,  the  wren,  the  wood- 
pecker, and  the  long-tailed  tit;  the  starling,  tlie  dipper,  and  the  ciicknn  are  all 
objects  of  tender  interest,  and  from  early  spring  to  latest  autumn  not  a  dav  but  is 
full  of  meaning  for  this  observer;  who  gets  more  than  a  catalogue  of  facts  out  of 
his  observations.  It  is  a  most  dehcate  and  refined  imagination  playinein  the  fields 
and  among  the  grasses,  along  the  brooks  and  under  the  leaves.  The  words  of 
Nature,  which  so  few  have  the  wit  to  read,  are  studied  with  a  sympathy  born  of 
long  experience.  The  style  withal  is  charming  and  concise.  It  is  impossible  that 
any  one  should  read  these  little  essays  without  having  the  imaeination  enlivened 
and  the  interest  in  Nature  quickened  and  invigorated.  —  Post  Dispatch. 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers    Publications. 

IDYLLS  OF  THE  FIELD. 

By  FRANCIS  A.  KNIGHT, 

Aiitlior  of  "  By  Leafy    IJ^iys,"  and  "  By  Moorland  and  Sea" 

ILLUSTRATED    BY    E.  T.  COMPTOX. 

12mo.     Cloth.     Price,  $1.50. 


Dealing  chiefly  with  bird  life,  the  work  also  contains  much  information  about 
the  denizens  of  English  lanes,  woods,  and  meadows,  written  in  a  very  pleasing 
and  agreeable  style.  Mr.  Knight  has  a  happy  touch  in  describing  the  ways  of 
birds  and  the  aspects  of  the  fields,  and  a  keenness  of  observation  akin  to  the 
faculty  that  was  so  remprkably  developed  by  Richard  Jefferies  in  "  The  Game- 
keeper at  Home,"  and  other  books. 


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Messrs.    Roberts   Brothers"    Publieations. 

Our  Autumn  Holiday 

ON   FRENCH    RIVERS. 

By   J.    L.    MOLLOY. 

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"  A  quite  fascinating  book  for  idle  summer  clays  Mr.  Mollov  has  the  true 
gift  of  narrating.  He  is  a  charming  chronicler  of  the  voyage  of  'The  Marie' 
on  the  tumultuous  Seine,  and  on  the  solenni,  nnghty  Loire-  ...  A  bright,  sunny 
book,  so  full  of  pleasant  fun  and  refined  enjoyment." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"There  is  not  a  stupid  p.ige  in  the  whole  book  ;  every  chapter  is  jolly,  fresh; 
observant  ;  tlie  whole  reflects  deliglufully  both  the  spirit  in  which  the  j.iunt  was 
undertaken,  and  that  in  which  the  coumrj'-side  accepted  the  jovial  wanderers.  .  . 
'All  Autumn  Holiday'  will  cause  many  readers  to  pass  a  happy  hour  or  two.  It 
is  not  stimulative  to  the  brain  ,  it  requires  no  effort  of  thought ;  intellectual  per- 
sons may  find  it  spun  out,  and  senous  people  discover  its  levity ;  but  hot  and  tired 
people  will  regret  neither  the  coolness  of  us  mam  theme  nor  its  liappy  super- 
ficiality "  —  Neiu  York  Tunes 

"  Mr.  Molloy  has  a  singularly  delicate  and  quick  touch  ;  and  his  fun  and 
pathos  are  equally  ready  and  genuine-  His  little  volume  of  sketches  is  a  vnie 
work;  it  is  in  every  way  charming,  full  of  information,  and  delicious  as  the  fra- 
grance and  savor  of  a  peach  grown  against  a  south-looking  wall  with  its  crimson 
cheek  set  toward  the  sun-  Wherever  the  lover  of  pleasant  books  may  be, — in 
quiet  country  town,  under  shade  of  miglity  hills  .and  their  pine-iorests,  or  near  the 
sounding  promontories  of  the  sea.  (jr  if  he  stay  in  the  heat  and  noise  of  the 
town,  —  he  can  have  no  more  delightful  reading  than  this  record  of  an  .Autumn 
Holiday  on  French  Rivers."  —  Portland  Press. 

"Roberts  Brothers  are  issuing  a  charming  series  of  books  of  out-door  life, 
which  is  just  the  kind  of  books  that  are  called  for  both  by  the  present  season  and 
the  growing  taste  for  that  kind  of  recreation  Another  one  just  published  is  '  Our 
Autumn  Holidays  on  French  Rivers,'  by  J  L.  Molloy,  and  is  as  bright,  breezy, 
spirited,  and  racy  of  the  country  life  which  it  depicts,  as  any  one  can  desire."  — 
Hartford  Coiiraut. 


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Messrs.    Roberts   BrotJiers    Publications. 

TRAVELS  WITH  A  DONKEY 

IN    THE    CEVENNES. 

By  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 

With    Frontispiece    Illustration    by    Walter     Crane.      i6mo 
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"This  is  one  of  the  brightest  books  of  travel  that  has  recently  come  to  our 
notice.  The  author,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  sees  every  thing  with  the  eye  of  a 
philosopher,  and  is  disposed  to  see  the  bright  rather  than  the  dark  side  of  what 
pastes  under  his  observation.  He  has  a  steady  flow  of  humor  that  is  as  appar- 
rently  spontaneous  as  a  mountain  brook,  and  he  views  a  landscape  or  a  human 
figure,  not  only  as  a  tourist  seeking  subjects  for  a  book,  but  as  an  artist  to  whom 
ti:e  slightest  line  or  tint  conveys  a  definite  impression."  —  Bosioji  Courier. 

'•A  very  agreeable  companion  for  a  summer  excursion  is  brought  to  our  side 
without  ceremony  in  this  lively  reprint  of  a  journal  of  travel  in  the  interior  of 
France.  For  all  locomotive  or  four-horse  stage  coach,  the  writer  had  chartered  a 
little  she-ass,  not  much  bigger  than  a  dog,  whom  he  christened  '  Modestine,'  and 
whose  fascinating  qualities  soon  proved  that  slie  was  every  way  worthy  of  the 
name.  Mounted  on  this  virtuous  beast,  with  an  inordinate  supply  of  luggage 
slung  over  her  patient  back  in  a  sheepskin  bag,  the  larder  well  provided  with 
cakes  of  chocolate  and  tins  of  Bologna  sausage,  cold  mutton  and  the  potent  wine 
of  Beaujolais,  the  light-hearted  traveller  took  his  way  to  the  mountains  of  South- 
ern France.  He  has  no  more  story  to  tell  than  had  the  'weary  knife-grinder,' 
but  he  jots  down  the  little  odds  and  ends  of  his  journey  in  an  off-hand,  garrulous 
tone  which  sounds  as  pleasantly  as  the  careless  talk  of  a  cheerful  companion  in  a 
country  ramble.  The  reader  must  not  look  for  nuggets  of  gold  in  these  slight 
pages,  but  the  sparkling  sands  which  they  shape  into  bright  forms  are  both  at- 
ti  active  and  amusing."  —  N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"  'Travels  with  a  Donkey  '  is  charming,  full  of  grace,  and  humor,  and  fresh- 
ness :  such  refined  humor  it  all  is,  too,  and  so  evidently  the  work  of  a  gentleman. 
I  am  half  in  love  with  him,  and  much  inclined  to  think  that  a  ramble  anywhere 
with  such  a  companion  must  be  worth  taking.  What  a  happy  knack  he  has  of 
giving  the  taste  of  a  landscape  or  any  out-door  impression  in  ten  words!  " 


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TEN    TIMES    ONE    SERIES. 


FOUR  AND  FIVE. 

A    STORY    OF    A    LEND-A-HAND    CLUB. 
By  EDWARD    E.    HALE, 

AUTHOR    OF      "ten    TIMES   ONE   IS    TEN,"     "  IN    H'S    NAME,"    "MRS.    MERRIAM"£ 
SCHOLARS,"   "how  TO   DO    IT,"    ETC. 

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Dr.  Hale's  style  is  so  well-known  that  it  seems  unnecessary  to  say  more  of 
one  of  his  books  than  to  announce  its  issue.  The  friends  of  the  "  Ten  Times 
One  is  Ten  "  series  will  find  this  latest  volume  equally  delightful  with  the  others. 
Four  boys  of  the  "  Lend-a-Hand "  club  camp  one  summer  in  the  Kaatskills, 
and,  in  addition  to  trout-fishing  and  hunting,  find  time  to  practicaliy  illustrate 
their  club  name  in  various  neighborly  acts  of  kindness  for  the  mountaineers. 
The  first  summer  one  new  member  is  added,  and  each  one  enrolls  a  new  member 
for  the  following  summer.  Thus  doubling  its  membership,  the  work  of  the  club 
in  camp  reunion  eacli  summer,  and  in  various  schools  and  towns  in  winter,  is 
traced  for  four  years,  making  a  very  bright  and  interesting  story.  —  Public 
Opinion. 

Stories  about  woodland  camps  are  always  of  interest  to  boys,  and  Dr.  Edward 
Everett  Hale  knows  how  to  write  and  touch  the  innermost  chord  of  sympathy  in 
young  hearts.  The  Wadsworth  mottoes  and  their  work  form  the  theme  of  Dr. 
Hale's  latest  story,  "  Four  and  Five  "  The  delightful  camp,  the  ice-boat  race, 
the  stories  of  the  incidents  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  the  formation  of  the 
club  all  go  to  make  up  a  very  readable  story.  Every  boy  will  be  benefited  by  it. 
—  Boston  Times. 

A  new  volume  has  been  published  in  Edward  Everett  Hale's  popular  "Ten 
Times  One  "  series  which  is  entitled  "  Four  and  Five.  A  story  of  a  Lend-a-Hand 
Club."  The  story  is  imbued  with  all  that  strong,  fresh,  original,  and  helpful  style 
for  which  the  distinguished  author  is  so  famous,  and  which  has  made  him  so 
immense  a  favorite  with  young  people,  as  well  as  with  all  older  readers.  Several 
interesting  incidents  occur  during  their  camping  times  in  which  they  splendidly 
carry  out  their  lend-a-hand  principle,  and  carry  substantial  aid  and  joy  to  the 
unfortunate.  The  story  throughout  is  instinct  with  the  brightest  spirit,  while  the 
mottoes  of  the  club  are  illustrated  in  a  way  to  make  it  eminently  helpful  to 
every  boy  and  girl  in  the  land.  —  Boston  Home  Journal. 


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THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY, 


BY 


EDWARD    EVERETT    HALE. 


ILLUSTRATED    EDITION 


PORTRAIT   OF    THE    AUTHOR. 


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enough  for  the  best  man  or  tlie  loveliest  woman  in  all  this  blessed  land. 
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MRS.    SWING'S    STORIES. 


'•  What  s  your  name,  boy  ?  "  —  Page  247. 

IAN    OF  THE    WINDMILL. 

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Mice   at   Play. 


"  I  pulled  it  full  of  water,  and  then  I  poked  the  pipe  end  into  her 
ear,  and  then  I  let  it  fly." 


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A    STORY    FOR    THE    WHOLE    FAMILY. 

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BOB    BROWN'S   BOY-BOOK 


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MR.  HALE'S  BOY  BOOKS. 


Stories  of  War, 

Told  by  Soidien 

Stories  of  the  sea, 

Told  by  Sailors 

Stories  of  adventure, 

1  old  by  Adventurers. 

STORIES  OF  Discovery. 

Told  by  Discoverers. 

STORIES    OF    INVENTION, 

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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Piiblicatio7is. 

AN    INLAND  VOYAGE. 

By  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 

With  Frontispihce  Illustration  ey  Walter  Crane. 
i6mo.  Cloth.  Price,  Si.oo.  Paper  covers,  50  cents. 


"Since  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  wrote  his  delightful  'Travels  with  a  Donkey 
in  the  Cevennes,'  English  and  American  readers  have  been  waiting  in  anxious 
expectancy  for  some  second  work  from  his  pen.  That  volume  was  so  full  oi 
light  and  air,  so  utterly  unconventional,  and  combined  in  so  natural  and  charming 
a  manner  descriptions  of  strange  people  and  strange  scenes  with  bits  of  reflection 
and  sentiment,  that  everybody  read  it  with  enjoyment  and  turned  its  last  lea 
with  regret.  And  now,  in  'An  Inland  Voyage,'  comes  its  fitting  companion 
just  as  fresh  and  bright,  and  marked  in  even  a  higher  degree  by  the  same 
qualities  which  gave  its  predecessor  so  wide  a  popularity."  —  Boston   Transcript 

"The  weary  wight  who  would  get  to  himself  an  hour  of  Iiarmless  pleasure  can- 
not do  better  than  to  go  on  'An  Inland  Voyage  '  with  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
The  voyage  is  through  the  canals  and  rivers  at  the  Netherlands,  and  is  made  in 
canoes.  The  chronicler  of  this  pleasant  journey  tells  the  story  of  the  expedition 
with  exquisite  grace  and  humor.  The  slightest  detail  affords  matter  for  enticing 
comment.  All  the  little  adventures  of  ordinary  travel  are  interpreted  with  the 
imagination  of  the  artist.  A  bit  of  landscape  or  color  is  sketched  in  a  sentence 
or  two.  And  in  all  this  is  conveyed  a  graphic  impression  of  the  country  and  its 
inhabitants.  One  does  not  often  meet  with  a  book  more  thoroughly  charming 
from  the  literary  point  of  view,  with  such  attractiveness  and  freshness  of  style, 
or  with  so  piquant  a  flavor  of  individuality  "  —  Philadelphia  Item. 

"  He  has  an  uncommonly  vivid  fancy,  and  the  faculty  of  producing  odd  con- 
trasts and  securing  striking  effects  by  unexpected  aiTangements  of  familiar  things. 
He  is  also  a  keen  observer,  and  he  has  a  piquant  and  vivid  style.  In  this  charm- 
ing little  volume  he  records  a  journey  in  a  canoe  through  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  attractive  portions  of  the  continent,  starting  from  Antwerp.  The  peculiar- 
ities of  a  very  striking  local  life  are  reproduced  by  many  quiet  touches  which 
leave  a  delightful  impression  of  freshness  upon  the  mind  of  the  reader.  Alto- 
gether this  volume  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  moat  readable  of  the  season.' 
—  Christian   Union 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publication:. 

A  SEA   CHANGE. 

By    FLORA  L.  SHAW, 

A.UTHOR  OF  "  Castle  Blair,"  "  Hector,"  "  Phyllis  Brownii 
With  Illustrations.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Price  $i.oo. 


"  A  chaste,  simple,  and  interesting  story,  of  a  pure  and  pleasing  literary  style, 
is  'A  Sea  Change,'  by  Miss  Flora  L.  Shaw.  It  is  of  the  class  of  stories  that 
come  from  the  pen  of  Miss  Yonge,  and  when  this  is  said,  enough  is  said  by  way  oi 
commendation.  The  heroine  is  a  young  girl  who,  when  a  child,  was  washed 
ashore  upon  the  coast  of  Cornwall.  The  mission  of  this  little  book  is  one  for 
sound,  simple  living,  and  its  lesson  one  of  a  sweet  life  and  a  loving  heart,  which 
is  beyond  all  price."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"  The  very  clever  author  of  '  Castle  Blair '  has  added  another  to  her  list  of  ex- 
cellent and  entertaining  children's  stories.  Miss  Shaw  always  writes  with  an 
object,  which  is  to  elevate  children's  thoughts  and  characters,  and  always  suc- 
ceeds in  making  her  stories  helpful  and  worth  thinkiiig  about,  by  not  only  young 
but  old  people  as  well.     We  heartily  recommend  this  story."  —  The  Churchman. 

"  It  is  a  sweet  and  tender  portrayal  of  childhood,  and  the  yorng  heroine  ma'Kes 
a  warm  friend  of  every  reader.  Domestic  life  in  a  fashionable  family,  with  a 
worldly  mother  and  father,  is  equally  well  portrayed.  The  characters  are  well 
sustained,  and  are  the  natural  result  of  the  surrounding  influences ;  the  portraits 
are  deftly  painted,  and  the  lights  and  shades  of  human  life  are  photographed  with 
a  keen  perceptive  power.  '  A  Sea  Change  '  is  not  up  to  the  standard  of  'Castle 
Blair,'  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  delightful  story  for  boys  and  girls,  and  almost 
equally  attractive  to  grown-up  readers."  —  Providence  Journal. 

"  Among  the  multitude  of  minor  novels  which  are  now  appearing  (for  what  but 
minor  novels  are  well-written  stories  for  the  young?),  the  freshest  and  pleasantest 
that  we  have  lately  seen  is  '  A  Sea  Change,'  by  Flora  L.  Shaw,  an  English  lady 
who  has  a  special  and  uncommon  talent  in  writing  these  delightful  productions- 
She  has  a  grace,  a  tenderness,  and  a  pathos  which  we  find  in  no  American  woman 
jn  the  same  by-path  of  letters  ;  and  if  we  may  juflge  of  the  effect  of  her  lively 
little  fictions  upon  young  people  by  their  effect  upon  ourselves,  they  are  not  onlt 
charmed  while  they  read  her  books,  but  are  happier  and  better  for  having  read 
them.     It  is  an  enviable  t  lent  which  she  possesses."  — N.  Y.  Mail, 


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Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


HECTOR:  A  Story. 


By  flora  L.  SHAW, 

Author  of   "Castle  Blair,"  "Phyllis  Browne,"    "A  t;EA 
Change." 

With  Illustrations.     i6ino.     Cloth.     Price  $i.oo 


•■  It  is  perhaps  enough  to  say  of  '  Hector  '  that  il  is  by  the  author  rt  '  Castle 
Blair,'  which  had  in  it  the  best  description  of  a  noble  child  that  Ruskiu  ever  read, 
and  an  equally  good  description  of  a  noble  dog.  But,  because  an  autlior  writes 
one  good  book,  it  does  not  necessarily  tollow  that  she  can  write  another.  But 
Flora  L.  Shaw  has  proved  herself  capable  of  going  on  as  bravely  as  she  began. 
'  Hector"  is  a  charming  story.  It  turns  upon  the  interest  which  the  boy  Hector 
and  Zelie  took  in  the  love  affairs  of  two  older  people,  one  of  whom  is  threatened 
with  a  marriage  wholly  distasteful  to  her.  Hector  and  Zelie  resolve  that  this 
shall  never  be,  and  to  prevent  it  they  go  off  together  in  search  of  the  absenf 
lovers,  and  have  some  sad  adventures,  but  do  finally  accomplish  that  for  which 
they  set  out.  Everything  ends  happily,  even  to  a  glimpse  that  Hector  and  Zelie 
will  some  day  be  everything  to  each  otlier.  The  charm  of  the  story  is  even  more 
in  its  way  of  being  told  than  in  its  general  conception." —  Christian  Register. 

'"  Hector,'  by  Flora  L.  Sliavv,  is  a  beautiful  little  tale  of  child  life,  abounding 
with  lovely  glimpses  of  rural  scenery,  and  fragrant  with  sweetness  of  feeling  and 
tenderness  of  sen'imant.  Its  tone  is  pure  and  fresh,  and  the  story  it  tell-*  is  as 
unhackneyed  as  it  is  fascinating.  Its  more  vigorous  incidents  are  related  with 
uncommon  powe',  but  it  is  in  the  delineation  of  character,  and  chiefly  in  ihat  of 
its  heroine,  by  whose  lips  the  recital  is  given,  that  its  chief  charm  is  to  be  found. 
It  is  a  book  for  both  young  and  old  to  read  with  genuine  pleasure."  —  Saturday 
Evening  Gan'.tte  ■ 

"This  i'  something  more  than  a  story  for  children,  although  children  are  the 
chief  cKanxters.  The  scene  is  France,  and  we  pass  in  review  tlie  status  of  the 
peasant,  the  small  proprietor,  the  smith,  gamekeeper,  physician,  and  noble  in 
a  French  country  neighborhood.  Yet  all  is  brought  in  naturally  and  without 
efTort.  The  .^tnry  is  pleasantly  told  in  the  words  of  a  little  French  girl,  whose 
comrade  md  hero  is  Hector,  a  little  English  boy."—  N     Y.  Times. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.      Mailed,  post-paid,    by  the  piib- 
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Mesrrs.    Roberts   Brothers    Publicatiom. 


CASTLE    BLAIR: 

A    STORY  OF   YOUTHFUL    DAYS. 

By    flora    L.  SHAW. 

i6mo.    Clcth.     Price  Ji  .00. 

"  Tliere  is  quite  a  lovely  little  book  just  come  out  about  children,  • 
■  Castle  Blair  1  '  .   .  .   The  book  is  good,  and  lovely,  and  cnie,  having  tin 
best  description  of  a.  noble  child  in  it  (Winnie)  that  1  ever  read  ;  and  nearh 
the  best  description  of  the  next  best  thing,  —  a   noble  dos."  -.i\s    |oi-c 
Ruskin,  the  distinguished  art  critic. 

"  'Castle  I'llair,'  a  story  of  youthful  days,  by  Flora  L.  Sli.iw,  is  an  Inst 
story.  A  charming  young  girl  —  half  French,  half  EngHsli — comes  fro.i 
France,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  to  live  with  her  bacheior  uncle  at  Castl: 
Blair,  which  is  in  possession  of  five  children  of  an  absent  brotiier  of  this 
uncle.  The  children  are  in  a  somewhat  wild  and  undisciplined  condition, 
but  they  are  as  interesting  children  as  can  be  imagined,  and  some  of  thtni 
winning  to  an  extraordinary  degree.  They  are  natural  children,  in  mannr:i 
and  in  talk  ;  but  the  book  differs  from  some  American  book.-i  about  childrev, 
in  that  it  is  pervaded  by  an  air  of  refinement  and  good-breeding.  The  story  i ; 
altogether  delightful,  quite  worthy,  from  an  American  point  of  view,  of  aj' 
Mr.  Ruskin  says  of  it ;  and  if  circulation  were  determined  by  merit,  \\ 
would  speedily  outstrip  a  good  many  now  popular  childien's  books  wliici 
have  a  vein  of  commonness,  if  not  of  vulgarity."  — Hartford  Coiirant. 

"  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  nothing  more  interesting  or  more  whole 
some  is  offered  tliis  year  for  older  boys  and  girls.  It  is  a  charming  story, 
m  which  the  author  has  delineated  character  as  carefully,  and  with  as  keen 
an  artistic  sense,  as  if  she  had  been  wiiting  a  novel.  Her  book  is  a  novel, 
indeed,  with  children  and  the  lives  of  -jhildren,  instead  of  men  and  womer. 
ind  their  lives,  for  its  theme."  — New  York  Evening  Post. 


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another."  —  Page  22. 

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